


The Scientific Trials

by cyevi



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Bulma is an actual scientist doing science things, F/M, Lemons all the way down, Three Year Gap (Dragon Ball), Vegebul, smutfest 2019, tpth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2019-10-27 01:06:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17756882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyevi/pseuds/cyevi
Summary: If it means saving the planet, Bulma will investigate everything she can to help her long term guest prepare for the invasion of the Androids. But how will her subject react?





	1. Trial 1: Are Saiyans Mammals? (Gooseflesh)

“That's not possible, Vegeta” Bulma protested. “Saiyans have hair, and your physiology is almost identical to humans. You're mammals.”

“Woman, nothing about my race is like yours. Even our hair.” Vegeta sat back down next to Bulma with his third plate of food. He preferred the seat by the window, so he could glance at the gravity chamber. Bulma on the other hand loved the morning sun on her face and the view of the entire Capsule Corporation compound from the kitchen, so she sat directly opposite the window. He hadn't quite polished off his breakfast, which he seemed to be using as his latest excuse for lingering around Bulma. He shoved a wedge of toast into a fried egg and ate with a grunt.

Each day, the meals seemed a bit longer. She noticed, but didn't dare say anything. For half a year she had put up with nothing more than a few daily grunts and barked orders from her long-term guest. For Goku's sake, and the Earth's, she had somehow gathered the patience to ignore most of the sullen prince's behavior. What seemed to work the best for her, was study.

The man was the same as Goku, physically, but every shred of his existence countered what she knew about her jovial friend. Where Goku could playfully imitate almost anything, Vegeta observed with a dark exactness. Where Goku made space for his friends, Vegeta openly bragged about slaughtering his. Where Goku enjoyed having a family, Vegeta spit at the idea of ever wasting own time raising offspring, a duty better left to the lower classes. And where Goku could flop into a seat and laugh about his day, Vegeta remained a rigid statue in conversations, waiting for the first moment to leave.

Prickly just wasn't an adequate enough descriptor for the man. But Bulma had decided that Vegeta was incredibly fascinating, at least for scientific study. Goku's methods had always astonished her, but the way her friend went about improving his training seemed practically magical to her. Vegeta, on the other hand, worked his body like a scientist. Routine, experimentation, testing, refinement, repetition. Over and over, his daily routine was something Bulma could wrap her head around because she followed the same pattern in her own lab. And with the help of her gravity chamber, she was able to monitor every minute detail of his progression. 

These conversations had been dangerous at first. Bulma assumed the stranded prince would be thrilled to have information about his progress as he had always seem more comfortable around technology than Goku, but he initially interpreted Bulma's first reports as spying. Several hostile conversations over a few weeks, along with a healthy dose of threatening to shut down the gravity chamber if he didn't settle down finally got Vegeta to listen long enough for Bulma to actually show him what information she had been collecting. 

Most of the chamber's readouts dealt with the safety mechanisms on the machine which kept it from inadvertently creating a black hole on the planet, but several could be fine tuned specifically for Vegeta's routines to help him have a more objective understanding of his progress. When Bulma had shown Vegeta that he had already doubled his base power level over his first six months of training, Vegeta finally uttered a small grunt of approval. That had truly been his turning point.

Since then, Vegeta had lingered at his meals. Instead of working for days at a time, he paused his training each morning and conveniently found the same time to have breakfast as Bulma, so that he could get more information on his progress. He never directly asked for it, but the woman was so chatty, he just needed to sit and listen and eat.

“Well, sure, your hair is a little weird, and I guess so is Goku's,” Bulma considered and took a long sip of coffee, staring a little too intently at Vegeta's spiky locks. Vegeta snorted a bit and took another bite of toast slathered with an egg. “Can I touch it?”

Vegeta almost choked and spat out his food. She wanted to do what??

“We have all different types of hair here on Earth, so maybe Saiyan hair is similar to one of those strands?” Without hesitation, Bulma set her coffee down and leaned toward the stunned man, reaching her hand up to his hair. 

Vegeta froze. It was rare for him to feel indecisive. Normally, this ridiculous request would result in a broken hand, but glancing at Bulma's fingers paused at his temple, he realized that he had begun to trust her curiosity. The woman, as infuriating as she could be, knew what she was doing. If knowledge of his hair somehow would improve his progress, he decided he didn't care.

“Fine,” he muttered and glanced out the window.

Unabashedly, Bulma slipped her fingers into Vegeta's hair, just above his ear. 

“Hmm..” Bulma stroked the hair between her fingertips and repeated the motion, running her nails along Vegeta's scalp as she pushed her hand further along his skull, just behind his ear.

“Tch,” Vegeta grunted quietly, but otherwise remained still.

“It's definitely thick, but it feels extremely close to human hair. I assume it keeps your head warm. Although you don't seem to have hair anywhere else on your body, at least not that I've noticed.” Bulma speculated mostly to herself, dropping hints that she had been watching Vegeta's body with some interest.

“How ridiculous. We don't need our hair to stay warm. Our own energy does that for us.. ARGH!” Vegeta jerked around quickly and grabbed Bulma's wrist, now containing a single strand of his hair in her fingers. “Woman, you must have a death wish!”

“Let go, Vegeta!” Bulma winced and tugged at her arm as Vegeta squeezed just a bit harder than he should have. He let go, and sure enough, her skin already had a darkened impression of his hand around her wrist. Bulma pulled her wrist to herself and started rubbing her skin. “Dammit, Vegeta.”

He glanced at her wrist and snorted. 

“See? Humans are ridiculously weak. You're injured just from that? Give me your hand.” 

“No way. I'm injured enough already you brute,” Bulma complained, hugging her arm to her chest.

“Now, Woman.” Vegeta reached out and took Bulma's wrist without her permission, but this time much more carefully, and pulled her arm, extending it to rest along the table.

“That's not the point,” Bulma continued her hypothesis. “We already know that humans aren't Saiyans, and that Saiyans are physically stronger than humans,” Bulma argued, watching Vegeta examine her wrist with his gloved hands. With precise, but steady movements, Vegeta held Bulma's hand, palm up, between both hands, his thumbs resting just above her visible veins along the underside of her wrist. The redness had faded, but the soreness persisted. “But there are obviously tons similarities between us.”

“That IS the point, Woman. Hair or no hair, Saiyans are Saiyans and humans are humans,” Vegeta somewhat absently lectured as he began to roll Bulma's wrist around in a circular motion to promote blood flow and relax the muscles he had inadvertently crushed. The movement caused a small shiver to run up Bulma's arm and travel down the back of her neck. “Travel around the galaxy some more and you'll find another race that looks just like humans, but have no internal bones, or that actually use their hair for communication. Appearances are,” Vegeta slowed his speech, staring at Bulma's arm, “...irrelevant.”

Bulma had tensed up slightly, though her arm remained relaxed. Vegeta continued his ministrations on her wrist by rubbing his thumbs along the edges of her veins, but took in the change. Her cheeks were just a shade healthier, her pupils had begun to dilate even with the warm morning glow of the sun covering the kitchen table, and except her arm, the rest of her body had become slightly stiffer. She even appeared to be sitting up with a better posture. 

“Mhmm,” Bulma watched Vegeta's hands on her wrist. She spoke a bit more quietly, a bit more absently. 

Vegeta arched a brow. He paused one hand, holding Bulma's wrist in stillness while his other hand pulled back for his thumb to roll steady circles around Bulma's palm. He could already sense that any damage he had accidentally inflicted on the woman's wrist had dissipated, but her heartrate had jumped up. Time for his own experiment.

Excrutiatingly slowly, Vegeta slid his top hand away from Bulma's palm, dragging his gloved fingertips down along the palm to the tips her her fingers. Her fingers seemed to flatten and lengthen as his touch disappeared from her hand. Bulma's gaze stayed on his hands, but sucked in a tiny breath through barely parted lips.

With his remaining hand on her wrist, Vegeta tugged Bulma's arm a little further across the table. The movement forced her upper body to lean toward him, and he toward her. Bulma's hand floated off the edge of the table while the rest of her arm stayed in the warm sunlight next to their breakfast. 

With a lower voice, Vegeta leaned in and repeated his last point. 

“We are different, you and I.” He kept his eyes on her face, watching her cheeks take on another wave of warm redness. He finally let go of Bulma's wrist and repeated his last movement, dragging his gloved fingertips along her palm, tracing the length of her fingers, then stopping briefly at the tips before moving his hand completely away.

Almost imperceptibly, Bulma bit the inside of her lip as a wave of shivers traveled from her fingertips, up her arm, down the back of her neck and across the landscape of her flesh. Her arms prickled with gooseflesh. 

“You see?” Vegeta suggested quietly. “My body has no use for such a sensation.”

Bulma let out a breath she wasn't even sure she had been holding, blinked and looked up at Vegeta's face, now staring directly at hers. She took in the calm in his eyes, the steadiness with which he regarded her, the stillness of his body leaning toward her. Realizing her own distraction, she swallowed once and lifted her chin a bit imperiously.

“Then your body, Your Highness, is missing out.” With that, Bulma rose from the table and dropped her coffee cup next to the sink on her way to her lab. 

He watched her leave and considered her words. His absolutely pointless ministrations had completely flipped a switch on the woman. Not once in the months he had been trapped on this planet had he ever seen her in such a state. Neither had he seen her flesh pebble as if a current of ki had run underneath her skin. 

Vegeta stretched his fingers out on both hands and made fists several times, forcing his own energy to run through his limbs. It spread through his muscles, into his blood, behind his eyes, along his bones, and finally wrapped around his flesh like icy water, but no amount of manipulation of his energy elicited such a delicate response on his own skin. It remained taut and prepared for battle. 

“Tch, useless.” Vegeta left the kitchen and headed out to the gravity chamber for the day.

–

_Trial 1: Are Saiyans mammalian? Investigation of Vegeta's hair seems to indicate little differences between Saiyan and Human hair structures. While the sample does seem stiff by initial comparison, the fibrous cells are composed of the same nutrients and molecules as Human hair cells, although they appear to be arranged in a tighter pattern because of the shape of the cell walls. Slightly geometric compared to the rounded cells of Human samples._

Bulma paused typing her notes and glanced up at the monitor linked to the gravity chamber. Vegeta was already sweating under 150g as he ran through his elaborate training katas. 

_Unusually vocal response to having a hair removed from head, at least as hypothesized previously that Saiyans are more immune to pain than Humans. However, subject's response was immediate and subject's reaction caused minor injury to this researcher. Experiment concluded unexpectedly when subject attempted a recuperation technique on the researcher's injured wrist causing researcher to become a participant._

Bulma lifted her hand and examined her wrist. A motion she found herself repeating rather frequently since breakfast. 

_Let the record show that this researcher found the recuperation technique … successful. Current study of Saiyan physiology continues to suggest mammalian nature, though further investigation is necessary._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh.. my first time participating in a TPTH event! So many wonderful stories have already been started and I'm definitely late to the party. I hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcome :D


	2. Trial 2: How strong is a Saiyan? (Quaking Body)

“Woman!” Vegeta barged into Bulma's lab, barking at the top of his lungs. Bulma almost dropped the small test tube filled with bleach and a sliver of Vegeta's hair sample onto her lap. Grumbling, she placed the glass tube onto a nearby rack, raised her safety goggles to rest atop her curled bangs and turned around.

Vegeta continued his approach, absolutely drenched in sweat, panting heavily. Bulma glanced over the prince, raising her eyebrows. She had seen Vegeta during his workouts on the monitor several times, and when he was finished with the gravity chamber. But this was the first time she had seen him at what appeared to be the middle of a workout, in person. He stopped a meter or so short of Bulma, scowling with enough fire to burn a hole in the floor.

“Kami, Vegeta,” Bulma grumbled. “WHAT? I'm in the middle of something here.” She glared at the intruder in front of her. 

“Why has the gravity room been locked down to 100g? You know I've already surpassed that level.”

Bulma crossed her hands in front of her waist and leaned back in her chair. 

“Because last night's readouts indicated that you attempted to push the unit to 300g while the attackbots were activated even though I KNOW your current limit is only 220g,” Bulma chastized. “I have told you, repeatedly, that the gravity room will suffer catastrophic failure if one of those bots fires at the wall, you miss, and it hits its target. The magnetic field will be compromised instantly and the turbine running the unit will cascade onto itself, ultimately killing you too. If you want to use the attackbots, you are limited to 100g.”

Vegeta took a threatening step forward and placed his hands on the arms of Bulma's chair, leaning directly into her face. She could hear a low rumble before he spoke.

“I will not miss,” Vegeta almost spat the words, inches from Bulma's face. His arms practically locked her into her seat and neither of the two budged for a moment, staring one another down. The scent of Vegeta's sweat drifted through the lab and mixed with Bulma's perfume, a custom blend of white lily, red cognac, and honeyed amber. Bulma took in his heady scent and braced herself for battle. 

“Prove it. I will NOT raise the lock until I see that you can handle that level. Last I checked, you were only up to 200g with the bots.” Bulma held up a finger to Vegeta's lips, silencing him before he even started his objection. “I know you think the levels are just numbers, but they don't operate on a linear scale like adding more apples on a tray.” Vegeta batted Bulma's hand away from his face and stood up. Bulma continued her diatribe before Vegeta could object. 

“And I KNOW that you can feel the increases aren't linear either. When you bump up the gravity chamber 10g instead of 1g, I know that what your body is doing is similar to Goku's Kiao-ken technique, even if he never taught it to you. There's no other explanation for how you're able to jump multiple pressure levels.”

“Fine.” Vegeta bristled at the his rival's name and turned his back to Bulma. “I'll prove it right now.” Vegeta walked toward the lab exit but only made it a few steps before Bulma stopped him, her hand lightly grabbing at his arm. 

“Wait up, Vegeta,” Bulma said and stood, releasing his arm and waving for him to follow her. “You don't have to go all the way to the gravity chamber to test out your current tolerances. I've already finished a mini testing device for you to use. I just haven't installed it in the chamber yet.” She walked over to a nearby wall where a tall, rectangular device with what looked like a blood pressure cuff sticking was attached near waist level. 

Vegeta grunted and followed. “This will be installed soon, yes? I don't have time for this bullshit, Woman.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Bulma snapped, “You're so welcome I keep inventing this shit for you.” She scowled and pointed to the cuff on the device. “Arm.”

At the sarcastic use of his title, Vegeta bared his teeth at the woman. Unfortunately, she had a point. All of the progress he had made in the past few months had been the direct result of the constant improvement to her already amazing tech. Even the occasional spar with Goku wasn't really pushing him hard enough. Vegeta stepped onto a low platform at the base of the unusual tower, stood with his back near the wall and placed his wrist into the cuff. Bulma hit a few buttons on the side facing Vegeta. The machine had clearly been designed for him to use on his own, so for the moment, her hand was near his chest and again, his sweat and her perfume mixed.

He said nothing, but stood perfectly still and took in a quiet breath. The scents caused his nose to wiggle a bit. He didn't really understand why Earth women smelled the way they did, though he wasn't sure he minded either. While Bulma was preoccupied with punching in the last of the commands, Vegeta took in a second breath and let the different impressions flood through his senses. Something reminded him of a flavor he used to know in his youth. Some kind of fruit he hadn't had in decades. A ripe, juicy thing that one could only get during the warmest months on the planet. The faded memory of the fruit slipped through his mind and caused him to salivate a bit.

“Alright,” Bulma's nonchalant voice broke into his thoughts. She stepped back from the device just after pressing a green button. “This works a bit like a scale. The unit will create a localized zone that increases the pressure on your body. As the pressure increases, you have to use your energy to push back against it, but you must direct the energy downward, to the platform you're standing on.”

“Then why this restraint?” Vegeta asked.

“The machine won't work without a living being in contact with the device. The cuff will also monitor your vital signs and it's keyed to shut down as soon as it passes 5% of your current limitation.” Bulma stood back from Vegeta and eyed him up and down, her hands on her hips. “As you increase your strength, the unit will automatically scale the gravity chamber to allow up to a 10% increase of your current ability. This way, I won't constantly have to babysit you to keep you from blowing up my house.”

“It was just that once! Kami, Woman, let it go,” Vegeta argued. 

A low buzzing noise emanated from the unit as it began to power up. The effects were immediate on Vegeta and he slightly bent his knees to brace against the increasing pressure on his body. Bulma watched him without further remark. The unit design was impressive, as always. If competing tech companies were to ever get their hands on a device that could localize gravimetric pressure, the world of interstellar mining would never be the same. Unscrupulous businesses on Earth, without space flight capability would likely try to use it on Earth based mines, and that would only spell disaster for the planet. Best to keep her tech to herself for now.

“Where … is the readout,” Vegeta asked as the pressure increased again. By this point, his muscles were bulging and a faint glow about his skin had begun to appear. 

“It seemed unwise to include one, frankly” Bulma chided. “Knowing how competitive you and your kin are would likely just incite you to try and push past the old read outs, instead of focusing on your task at hand. Besides, I can't have you losing your shit and punching my machine when it reports that you haven't improved.”

Vegeta grunted and glared at the woman. Although he couldn't be certain, the sensation on his body alread felt similar to 180g. A familiar pain inside his body crept up along his spine as the unit continued to test his limitations. Something locked deep within that he just couldn't seem to access. The feeling spurred him on, the pain driving his desperation to seek out more and more punishment for his body.

Bulma glanced down at her portable readout. The unit was working perfectly, of course. Vegeta's vitals were holding steady even as his heartbeat increased. She was always fascinated by how differently Saiyan circulation was from Human. Even under 200g of localized gravity, Vegeta's heart rate hadn't even exceeded 40 beats per minute. For a human to hit 40 bpm, he would have to be in deep meditation. Not even sleep dropped a human heart rate quite that low. But for a Saiyan, their metabolism was scaled so differently from humans that from her perspective, Vegeta almost seemed as if he wasn't alive at times. 

Her console beeped to inform her that Vegeta was approaching his last threshold, around 220g. She studied him, her own heart beating faster than normal. Truly, this close, the man was a site to behold. His entire body was rigid, yet with each heavy breath, he gave off the appearance of molten steel. By now, he was emanating a solid cage of soft yellow energy, his knees remained bent, but now his back had tucked over slightly. Vegeta had also dropped his chin and closed his eyes to concentrate on the sensation. With parted lips, he was gritting his teeth together and suppressing some kind of growl or yell. A thought popped into her mind. 

“Is that all you've got, Prince” Bulma softly mocked, leaning her body toward Vegeta slightly. With the unit still on, and still increasing its pressure, Vegeta audibly growled and looked up at Bulma. Internally, his glare shot through her body starting at the lump in her throat then straight through her stomach and in to the pit of her groin. Externally, she offered a lewd smirk.

Forced to concentrate on the machine, Vegeta closed his eyes again and groaned through his teeth. Instantly, the soft glow around his body blossomed into an intense white shimmer. 

Bulma quickly checked her readouts and then put the console down on the desk behind her. She took another step closer to the raging prince and dropped her voice into a husky tone.

“I bet Goku would put these numbers to shame,” Bulma practically spoke in his ear.

Vegeta shot his head up and looked Bulma dead in the eyes and yelled at the top of his lungs. The unit beside him increased its pressure again, enough this time to force Vegeta to collapse to his knees, buckling under the immense strain. Every muscle in his body quaked, struggling to keep him semi-upright in the face of this absolute shrew. Bulma smirked down at him, one eyebrow cocked, her arms pressing her breasts together slightly as bent at the hips to lean down. Simultaneously, the machine powered down, releasing the Saiyan from the localized gravity.

“Good work, Your Highness,” Bulma teased. “The gravity chamber will now allow you to set up to 350g.” She turned away and collected her console. She couldn't help herself though and added, “Seems a little goading is good for you.”

A pair of beeps announced that the cuff had released Vegeta and the unit completed its power down. The shimmering aura around Vegeta blipped out of existence as Vegeta caught his breath. Bulma walked back to her chemistry desk and deposited the console atop a pile of papers. Vegeta watched her settle back into the chair he found her in a few minutes ago. His body absolutely seethed with dark rage from her words and as he stood, he found it actually took a moment to wipe his mind of the desire to rip her body in half.

“I'll have the testing unit installed in the gravity chamber by the end of the week, but I'll reset the limiter immediately,” Bulma clacked away on a few keys on her keyboard. “And Vegeta...”

He stopped, several paces away from her, and held back a snarl. 

“The cuff is a good look on you,” Bulma turned to look at him with just the tiniest cocky smile on her lips. He was still panting heavily and looked for all the world like his body wanted to erupt in a blaze of hellfire. “Remind me to tie you up again in the future.”

Vegeta suppressed a visible shiver running through his still trembling muscles and turned away immediately, storming out of the lab.

– 

_Trial 2: How strong is a Saiyan? The physical limitations of Saiyan strength is not well known, nor well cataloged either in Earth records nor in any of the intergalactic records this researcher has been able to examine. While multiple sources describe the Saiya-jin race as one of the strongest known within our localized galaxy, specific quantification of their abilities seems to be lacking. Observational and field based data of an Earth-trained Saiyan and a natively-trained Saiyan have yielded differing results, but best estimation at the current moment relies soley on knowledge of a Saiyan's genetic background._

Bulma paused in her thoughts and bit her lower lip for a moment. 

_Continuing possible observations from Trial 1, physiologically, a Saiyan's anatomy is anything BUT mammalian when placed under stress. It operates on a completely different metabolic scale and as present studies have suggested, has unlimited potential for tapping into universal energy, or Ki. But if stress is the activating agent to the differences between Saiyans and Humans, additional … unusual trials will be needed to examine all possible avenues to elicit Saiyan strength potentials._

Bulma grinned to herself.

_Current subject had an extremely beneficial reaction to the use of goading, but results may have been muddied by use of … somewhat unprofessional conduct. Next trial must focus on one stress-inducing technique at a time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, these two just can't get over themselves. Good thing they've never been trapped in an elevator together.


	3. Trial 3: How Developed Are Saiyan Senses? (Musky Scent)

Bulma reversed the playback on her lab camera one more time and watched herself punching the test information into the localized gravimetric analyzer. But her eyes drifted away from her own actions and watched Vegeta, cuffed into the unit, leaning ever so slightly toward Bulma as she programmed the machine.

“What was he doing?” Bulma thought aloud and tapped a pen on the counter.

The video playback revealed Vegeta closing his eyes, dropping his chin slightly, and opening his mouth. Just before Bulma had started the machine, Vegeta took a visibly deep breath and raised his chin. By the time the machine started and Bulma had backed away, his eyes were open, his body was straight, and by all appearances he had begun to concentrate on his energy.

Bulma rewound a bit until the image of Vegeta was paused with his mouth open, eyes closed, body leaning toward her. 

“Hmm.” She leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen on her hand, and tilted her head to ponder the image. 

A black blob of fur suddenly exploded through a pile of papers on her desk and then pounced onto Bulma's chest, causing her to fall back off her chair. Her left foot smashed against her desk on her way down which caused a few test tubes to scatter and roll onto the floor, shattering.

“Augh, Scratch!” Bulma screeched. “Why are you in my lab and not bothering Father?” She picked herself up, along with the pen that had flown across the room, then righted the chair. Scratch skittered behind her desk to the fallen test tubes. With a hand through her hair, Bulma stepped over the fallen papers to catch the furry menace.

“Shoo, cat” Bulma grumbled, completely exasperated. Scratch looked up at Bulma, his mouth slightly open with a bit of a vacant stare. At the tip of his teeth, Bulma saw Scratch's tongue before the cat licked its lips and ran under the desk and toward the entrance to her lab. She shuffled the black cat out of her lab and shut the door behind him. “Uhg. Cleaner bots One and Two, activate.”

Two small panels by the baseboards flipped open and round robots popped out, hovering a few centimeters above the floor. Bot One extended a pair of spindly arms with pincer grips and set to work on the fallen papers while Bot Two zipped around behind the desk and got to work vacuuming up the broken glass and spilled liquids. 

“I need a break. Maybe some time in the pool will help.” Bulma sighed and shoved her long, curly locks back into a low ponytail. She took off her labcoat, threw it on the back of her chair and left the lab.

An hour later, after a dip in the pool on the east side of the compound, Bulma slightly toweled off and walked into the overly spacious sauna hut at the end of the deck. Laying down a fresh, white towel on one of the many benches, she turned a dial next to a pile of black rocks, and splashed a small cup of water atop them. Steam quickly filled the room and increased the ambient temperature. The glass paneled door fogged up with condensation and Bulma sighed.

“This is nice,” she practically moaned as she sat down on the towel, then turned to lay on her back. Stretching her body out, she reached her hands above her head and crossed her ankles, letting the hot atmosphere of the room soak into her body. Only wearing a thin, dark blue bikini, she warmed up quickly. 

Bulma took another deep breath and closed her eyes, luxuriating in the enveloping heat on her skin. She could feel her pores relaxing, her flesh softening, and even a few muscles settled down that she hadn't realized were tensed up. As moments passed, a few beads of sweat began to form along her hairline and collarbone, but she didn't mind. Her body melted a bit more with every deep, steam filled breath. 

After a short while, her mind began to drift into a half-sleep. Neither the quiet click of the sauna door opening and closing quickly, nor the footsteps of another body entering the sauna disturbed her. However, the slight breeze from the temperature change as some of the heat escaped from the sauna, brushed across her warmed skin and caught her attention. Turning her head to the door, her muscles absolutely froze, but several parts of her body jumped to attention. 

Standing next to the pile of black rocks, wearing only a pair of training shorts and hours worth of sweat, Vegeta paused. His body was impossibly rigid as his eyes roamed critically up and down Bulma's exposed skin. A deep, almost smoky scent filled the sauna and Bulma realized that he must have come straight from training. Not even a brief shower or dip in the pool to rinse off. While the undiluted, musky scent was definitely strong, she admitted to herself that it wasn't unpleasant. Her body betrayed her analytical mind, sending shivers along her arms, across her breasts, perking her nipples against the thin material of her bikini, and continued down through her stomach to her groin. The impulse to rub her thighs together to relieve the fluttering in her nerves was only stopped by Vegeta's steady observation of her. Trying to play it cool, Bulma settled for parting her lips to take in a hot breath of sauna air. And that's when it struck her.

Vegeta was doing it again. Breathing through parted lips. Just like a cat. It was subtle, but she was sure she saw it. Just like yesterday in the lab when he had bent toward her, he must have the ability to detect more subtle scents in his mouth or on his tongue because his face now almost resembled Scratch when the cat tried to sniff at the scattered liquids this morning. The theory was solid, but Bulma was determined to test her hypothesis … completely.

“Woman,” Vegeta grunted and finally moved to sit on a nearby bench. He lopped a small towel over his neck and leaned back against one of the upper seats, closing his eyes. He spread his arms out, elbows on the upper bench so that his forearms hung freely out to the sides. Bulma swallowed. Now, no longer under his unsettlingly dark glare, she sat herself up, primping her loose, wet hair over her shoulder. Glancing surreptitiously at Vegeta, she ran her fingers along the strings of the top of her bikini to make sure everything was snug. It was time for her next trial. 

Bulma bit her lower lip and silently reached behind her back. Watching Vegeta carefully for any sign that he might be peeking, Bulma quickly untied the knot at the back of her bikini before retying it again, pulling the strings much more tightly. She repeated the action with the string behind her neck. Her breasts now sat quite plump, straining against the thin fabric of the suit, almost pressed together along the center of her chest. With her impromptu push-up created, she added a final touch, by running her fingers along the inner edges of the top, pulling it down more closely to her taut nipples. The effect caused her breasts to bulge noticeably. If she wasn't careful, she really would pop out of her top.

The realization of what she was about to do slipped through Bulma's body and pooled at her center again. To calm herself, she took an audible breath and rocked her hips quietly against the bench, just once. Ready to begin her experiment, she stood up and walked toward Vegeta, stopping in front of the sauna rocks. She picked up another cup of water for the rocks, but spoke before pouring the liquid.

“I'm surprised to see you in here,” Bulma spoke as nonchalantly as she could and began drizzling the water atop the hot stones. “I didn't think you partook in luxuries.” The water hit the stones with a steady sizzle and a new cloud of steam filtered through the room. It had been quite hot already, but this second round of steam caused Bulma to sweat a bit more. Small beads ran down the side of her cheek and fell onto the curves of her breasts.

Vegeta said nothing. She wondered if the prince had fallen asleep and her grand plan was about to be a waste of time. Bulma set the water cup back down by the small reservoir and walked toward Vegeta. She stopped less than a meter away and froze when he opened his eyes. With his head tilted back, he looked directly at the ceiling. Bulma couldn't help her own eyes, wandering down his throat, across his sweat-laden chest, down his shredded abs, along the sharp dip of his hips and waistline of his shorts ..

“It feels like my planet” he muttered and finally dropped his chin to look at Bulma. Her eyes shot up at the confession and managed to catch the 180 switch in his expression from exhaustion to keen shock at Bulma's presence and appearance. His eyes left hers immediately and unabashedly traveled down her body, lingering at the soft, sweat covered mounds of her breasts. Noticing this, Bulma pressed her arms against her sides, causing her chest to swell forward a bit, her nipples puckering more tightly under such close observation. Bulma took a half step forward to hide the fact that it allowed her to press her thighs together once more. Vegeta swallowed.

“Or, it would if you weren't in here,” he muttered softly, leaving his lips parted as he finished speaking. His eyes managed to meet hers again, but he seemed to be in a slight trance. To Bulma, it felt like his eyes weren't quite there, not as focused as he had been moments ago, yet his body seemed more on edge, more attentive to her presence. But her mind caught up to the man's insult and without a thought, she swung her hand across Vegeta's face with a wet slap.

In an instant, Vegeta had caught her hand and swung Bulma's entire body around so quickly it left her dizzy in the oppressive heat of the sauna. She found herself pressed down against the sauna bench, her legs lopped over Vegeta's lap, her arms held down next to her chest by his grip. While her legs were free, the strength with which he gripped her upper arms, holding her down, felt final. He leaned over her, his legs brushing beneath hers, his thumbs pressing in against the undersides of her bikini, his face stern on the edge of murderous. Once more, he parted his lips, this time enough for his teeth to be visible, and took a long, deep breath while staring into Bulma's eyes. 

Fear mixed with inescapable arousal swirled in Bulma's core and began to drip between her legs. Her breathing quickened and she raised her chin in her signature imperious style. 

“How dare you!” Her eyes glared bright blue arrows back at Vegeta. Before he could say another word, she puckered her lips and spat at his face. “I open my home to you, I help you with my tech, I feed you, and all you ever do is insult me! Let me go!”

Vegeta rumbled. His grip tightened on her arms. Shifting his fingers slightly, he pulled Bulma off the bench a few centimeters while leaning closer to her. The result increased Bulma's dizziness, causing her to feel both as if she were trapped yet falling. She darted her hands up to Vegeta's arms and dug her nails into his skin as hard as she could. Still, Vegeta held Bulma steady.

“If you weren't here,” Vegeta began, glancing down at Bulma's fingertips, a few of which had managed to pierce his skin and draw a bit of blood, “then I would have...” Vegeta paused. He closed his eyes, took in another deep breath through his mouth, this time as if he were relishing a cigarette, then swallowed. 

He couldn't take it any longer. The woman was absolutely drenched in arousal. Her sweat, her flesh, her hair, the flush of her cheeks and the swell of her breasts were driving him mad. She was obviously in heat, obviously in need, and by all accounts, his brain told him that she was obviously ready to take him inside her body. And although he _knew_ she had never verbally expressed an interest in mating with him, he could feel her heart racing underneath the palms of his hands and the blood rushing about her body in anticipation of a heavy rutting. Every scent surrounding her invaded his senses and screamed at him to mark her skin with his teeth, to slip his energy through her blood, to claim her flesh with his. 

A deep rumble emanated from his chest as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to her exposed sternum. Roughly, he dragged his tongue up along her skin, tasting the stream of sweat trying to pool between her breasts. He didn't stop until he reached the base of her throat. Below his now wet lips, he felt the woman swallow a breath. She was blanketed with need, but now her scent was mixed with palpable fear. With a shred of rational thought, he opened his eyes, pulled away with a deep exhale, and set Bulma back on the bench of the sauna.

Instantly, Bulma swung her legs off his lap and jumped up, staring incredulously at Vegeta.

Vegeta sat still for a moment, his hand gripping into fists. He dropped his head a bit, but turned to look at Bulma. His eyes belied a turmoil of thoughts, but his body tightened up, a spring ready to explode.

“I would have turned the heat up,” he finally concluded. Bulma gasped and hesitantly sat back down on the bench away from Vegeta, staring at him. He continued, but his speech was strained. “Vegeta-sei. It ... it was a desert.” Without looking at her, Vegeta stood and left the sauna quickly, the door shuddering a bit as he closed it a little too hard. 

Bulma gripped the towel on the bench next to her, her own body shivering with frightened arousal. Swallowing a breath, she glanced over to the spot Vegeta had held her down. With her free hand, she ran two fingertips down her sternum, where his tongue had drunk from her flesh.

–

_Trial 3: How developed are Saiyan senses? Following up from Trial 2, Saiyans do indeed seem to benefit from stress-inducing situations. Trial 3 focused on potential stress responses of the Saiyan olfactory system. Preliminary observation suggests that Saiyans may possess a vomeronasal sac that can aid in the processing and discrimination of scents which is enhanced by a flehmen response involving a slightly raised upper lip. Although this behavior is seen in both carnivorous and omnivorous creatures, its usefulness to a sentient species, especially one as violent as Saiyans, is currently unknown._

Bulma paused typing her report to unwrap the towel from her hair. The cold shower had helped steady her thoughts, and her nerves. Shaking her hair out gently, she tossed the towel to a nearby counter and continued.

_Subject was exposed to intense levels of pheromonal scents in an enclosed space including sweat, arousal, saliva, and finally blood. Effects were likely intensified by inclusion of the raised temperature of the sauna environment. Subject's reaction was immediate and … intense, resulting in feral-like responses that escalated with each additional pheromone. However, subject was able to retain awareness and this researcher did not come to any harm. Trial seems to indicate that Saiyan stress responses are directly dependent upon their ability to maintain control of their own actions. But heightened or overly stimulated senses can wrench that control away leading to volatile outbursts._

Bulma picked up her glass of ice water, watched a drop of condensation slide along the outside until it dripped onto the desk, then swirled the water, listening to the ice cubes clinking. She took a long drink of water then continued.

_In the case of this investigation, the subject of the trial has generally shown extraordinary levels of discipline and control, even though outward manner is abrasive. Next trial will investigate possible avenues of inducing stress while allowing subject's senses to relax. Hopefully, this will result in additional control over the self while promoting intense strength gains._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, that bikini was super, duper scientific, Bulma.


	4. Trial 4: How Effective is Saiyan Metabolism? (Breath on Neck)

Almost a week passed before Bulma saw any sign of Vegeta since their encounter in the sauna. She had initially worried that her experiments had pushed him too far when he stopped appearing at the breakfast table for his daily updates, but data from the gravity chamber indicated he was still following his training routine. He was just avoiding her.

On one hand, this was fine with her. In order to conduct her next experiment, she needed Vegeta to be back in his regular routine, so that his emotional state was as normal as possible, for Vegeta anyway. On the other hand, she was frustrated. She wasn't quite sure if she was actually annoyed with him for what he did, or if she was just annoyed he was keeping his distance from her. Over the last week, she had replayed every moment in the sauna in her mind multiple times. She couldn't have predicted his reactions nor the fact that she both hated what he did and loved it. So his recent absenteeism was at least helping her clear her own head too. Still, she needed to get back to work and to do that, she needed that brooding Saiyan to play along.

With a resolute sigh, she grabbed a piece of stationary and penned a note, determined to get them talking again. It was just past nine in the morning, so Vegeta would have been in the gravity chamber for at least four hours by now. She wasn't sure when he was eating, but given that food was still disappearing from the kitchen, she knew he wasn't starving. Likely he was filling up either before or after his workouts, which started so early and ended so late, she had never caught him.

She decided to keep the note short and to the point. 

_“Vegeta, I miss our morning chats. Join me for dinner tonight? -B”_

Bulma walked out of the house and over to the gravity chamber. From her pocket, she threw a small capsule on the ground. From it, a dozen different bots appeared. She selected a short, humanoid bot and handed it the note. 

“Unit 4, make sure the occupant of the gravity chamber receives this note immediately upon his exit. Notify the server when the task is complete then report back to the lab for recharge.”

The tiny bot bent at its mid point and took up a position outside the gravity chamber. Bulma activated the capsule recompression and the remaining bots disappeared in a quick poof. She collected the capsule and turned back toward the house.

“Now .. what should we actually eat?” Bulma pondered, tapping her watch. A holographic display screen popped up in front of her while she was walking. Waving her hand in front of it made several categories of food and related restaurants scroll by. “Meat, of course.. but something special.” 

Like a smack in the face, Bulma recalled Vegeta's final words to her in the sauna. Grinning, she swiped on her display to find just the right restaurant and called them up. Tonight, Vegeta was going home. 

**

Surprisingly, Bulma's message bot had returned just after she arrived in the lab after her breakfast. She found it briefly curious that Vegeta would have stopped his workout mid-morning, but maybe he had just paused for a snack. For the rest of her day, Bulma shuttered herself in her lab. A few hours of her day had been spent fixing an old bot to help her mother with cupcake deliveries. Apparently, her poor mother had taken the bot for her weekly delivery to her flower club and the bot had malfunctioned, spinning like a tornado flinging Panchy's lovely treats all over her ritzy guests. The image of a bunch of society snobs covered in frosting gave Bulma life and kept her grinning even when the bot exploded grease all over her clothing. 

Following lunch, she set about running various assays to determine various possibilities for the metabolism of a few new liquid compounds. A few might come in useful later tonight, but some just verified what she already knew about Vegeta's metabolism. After seventeen trials, Bulma extracted her new compound and added a droplet into a few small samples of blood she had taken from Vegeta while he recovered following his first accident in the gravity chamber. She set the three samples into a centrifuge and began the fractionation. If her theory was correct, the blood would separate in to four distinct layers. 

Before the sun had set completely, her cell chimed, letting her know the dinner she ordered had arrived. She left her lab and ushered in the catering company. After some consideration, she decided the small feast would be in one of the larger dining rooms in the compound. An elegant, but not fussy room, it was styled with smooth gray granite walls, sheer black curtains, and modern furniture, mostly in white pine. Along the back wall a generously sized buffet would soon be covered with a sumptuous feast. In the center of the room, a table with room for six or eight guests depending on how cozy the evening needed to be, and a small open area with a copper chandelier above that was perfect for chatting before or after the meal. The dining room was on the second floor and had a small Juliet style balcony overlooking the southern side of the estate. Manicured gardens had been set alight with small solar lamps that illuminated various winding paths. All in all, Bulma felt this room was fit for a prince. Glancing at the horizon, she saw the sun burning down through the atmosphere creating a deep red-orange swath across the sky. 

Bulma spun around and looked over the room. With a nod of appreciation, she turned the chandelier on to a soft white glow and headed to her bedroom to change for the night. She still wore her grubby lab outfit, which frequently consisted of loose, grease stained pants and a messy tank top. A quick shower and wardrobe change would set everything in place. Not willing to risk a ruined evening, she decided to stop by Vegeta's room on the way, just to let him know that dinner would be set up in a half hour.

Stopping at Vegeta's door, she rapped softly with her knuckles and waited.

And waited.

Impatiently, she knocked on his door again. Immediately, she pulled up her data log on her watch to see if the gravity chamber was still running. Nope, empty. With a slightly exasperated breath, Bulma knocked again, this time a little longer than before.

“Kami, Woman. WHAT?” Vegeta seethed, ripping the door open away from Bulma's obnoxious noise.

“Geez Vegeta, why didn't you just answer the door the first time?” Bulma managed to tamp down every urge to bitch about Vegeta's rudeness, given the fact that she was about to lavish him with a feast. “I just wanted to let you know that dinner will be all set up in half an hour in the South dining room.”

Vegeta stared blankly at Bulma. “And I should care, why?”

Bluma glanced at Vegeta. He was still in his training clothes, so he couldn't have been back long. She crossed her arms and tilted her head a bit.

“Dinner? You're coming, right? You got my note?” Bulma queried, honestly feeling a little confused and possibly hurt. Vegeta turned away from the door and walked over to a small table in his room, retrieving Bulma's note. He held it up and looked at her with annoyance.

“This note?” Vegeta deadpanned. Bulma nodded, furrowing her brows. “This note, NOT written in galactic standard?”

Bulma clued in and brought a grease covered hand up to her face, suddenly realizing her mistake. Months of dealing with Goku and his friends left Vegeta able to speak the same language as her without his scouter translating, but written text was a different story. Earth didn't use printed galactic standard because it hadn't heard of it. Bulma suddenly realized that in all his time living with her, she had never seen him pick up a paper or book. She must have assumed he just didn't have an interest, but really, he couldn't read the text.

“I'm sorry.” Bulma took the note from Vegeta and chuckled a bit to herself. “That was a thoughtless mistake. It just says that I miss our breakfast chats and I was hoping you'd join me for dinner tonight. I ordered something special, just for you.” 

Vegeta looked off to the side and considered the request. 

“Fine, let's go.” Vegeta started out of his room but Bulma held her hand up.

“Hold up,” she smiled playfully. “This is actually a pretty nice dinner, and the caterers are still setting up anyway. I need to get out of these work clothes, and you look like you could use a shower too. So, how about we meet in thirty minutes?”

Vegeta arched a brow slightly, but nodded and stepped back to close his door. Bulma let out a sigh of relief and headed off to her own chambers. She knew just what she wanted to wear and had just enough time to get cleaned up. 

**

Bulma stepped into the dining room, mildly surprised that she managed to arrive before Vegeta. She never took him for one that required a lot of fuss to clean up. As for herself, she almost missed the half hour deadline when the zipper of her dress tried to misbehave by getting caught in the silk. In the end, she managed to get the dress working and she couldn't be more thrilled. The couture piece was one of her favorites. Set with thin spaghetti straps on her shoulders, the plunging neckline of the bust lined her soft, porcelain skin with black silk. The material hugged her curves until it reached the top of her thighs. There, the silk gave way to a sheer, flowing organza that bled from black into soft purples, pinks, and finally moonlight dusted whites. The fabric draped her long legs to just above the floor, but had a long slit on one side for ease of movement. Bulma had decided to leave her teal hair down, partially straightening her usually boisterous curls. She decided to forgo any jewelry, preferring the dress to make the statement. The overall effect was like a night blooming orchid.

The caterers had finished a while ago, so all that was needed was her guest. Bulma stepped over to the balcony and opened up the french doors to let the evening air in. The night was relatively warm, not too humid, and the sky was clear. Although they were close to the city, she had always appreciated that she had installed a light pollution dampening field around the compound. As a result, she was able to see the night sky almost as clearly as if she lived in the mountains. Tonight, a full moon helped illuminate the room, the silver light blending smoothly with the warm glow of the chandelier. 

Vegeta cleared his throat. With a start, Bulma turned around. Her heart beat a little more quickly as she realized she hadn't heard Vegeta even walk through the door. She knew he was strong, but maybe it shouldn't be a surprise that he was able to move silently either. She glanced him over and smiled coyly.

Somehow he had managed to dig up a dark indigo yukata and a black belt to tie around his waist. She wasn't sure if it was something Panchy had added to Vegeta's closet, but she was extremely pleased with Vegeta's selection. He even managed to put it on correctly, and had chosen not to wear an undershirt. Bulma leaned back against the railing of the balcony where a slight breeze caught her hair, rustling it behind her shoulders. 

“I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions the other day,” Bulma began. She initially started by looking Vegeta in the eyes, but paused to choose her words and glanced down. “So, I thought I might make it up to you with a desert feast!” 

When she looked back up at Vegeta, he had taken a step closer and was looking over Bulma's dress. He said nothing, apparently waiting for her to continue. 

She raised one hand, just past Vegeta's arm, gesturing to the spread against the wall.

“I don't really know what you would have eaten on Vegeta-sei,” Bulma began. “But, on Earth, desert cuisine often includes slowly cooked meats simmered in fine spices. So tonight, we have succulent machboos and rice, lamb thareed stew, and just for you and your appetite, an entire khuzi with hazelnuts and vegetables. Usually it's only served for a crowd, but I'm sure you'll manage.”

Vegeta listened quietly and took another step toward Bulma. By now, he was less than an arm's length from her. He briefly glanced past her, up at the sky. 

“Hopefully,” Bulma spoke sincerely and watched his expression, “it's a meal fit for a prince.”

“Don't.” Vegeta interjected, a bit terse. He brought his gaze back to hers and considered her for a moment. “Let's … just eat.”

Vegeta turned away from Bulma before he could take in her furrowed brows. He walked over to the buffet, Bulma following him silently. He stopped directly in front of the khuzi and took a deep breath. 

“Care for a drink first,” Bulma asked, holding up two long stemmed glasses. “Should whet the appetite and make everything taste even better!” Vegeta grunted quietly, affirming Bulma's suggestion. She quickly stepped to one of the ice buckets and pulled out a bottle of orange wine. Setting the glasses on the buffet next to a tureen of thareed, she gripped the bottle by the neck and reached for a corkscrew.

“Give me that,” Vegeta grumbled. “I'm hungry.” He snatched the bottle away from Bulma and with one hand, yanked the cork out effortlessly. Impatiently, he filled both glasses with a generous serving of the vibrant wine. He set the bottle down and picked up his glass. Bulma smiled and mirrored him.

But before she could offer a toast, Vegeta chugged the glass of wine down in a single gulp. If she hadn't been so used to how Saiyans ate, she might have recoiled. Instead, Bulma smiled again and sipped at her wine. She then took both glasses to the table. After returning for the wine, she filled his glass and left the bottle on the table. As she moved to the buffet to create a plate of food for herself, Vegeta was already sitting down with two full plates of food, one had an entire goat leg, the other was piled high with the baharat chicken and an enormous serving of spiced vegetables. Bulma returned to the table with a modest serving of chicken, rice, a small bowl of the stew, and a second bottle of wine. 

As he ate, so did she. She sipped at her wine, still on the first glass, and refilled Vegeta's for the third time. 

“So, is it similar,” Bulma queried between bites. “The food, I mean.” She watched him return to the table with another leg of goat, a massive bowl of the stew, and a huge serving of rice. He gulped down the wine before starting in on the meat.

“No,” he grunted and ripped a bite off the bone. “And yes.”

Bulma sipped her wine and waited, hoping he would explain. She watched him carefully, noting the color in his skin as he ate, the speed with which he moved, the way he moved. She kept special note of his eyes. Already, they seemed less piercing, but perhaps he was just absorbed in his food.

“We never bothered cooking the meat slowly,” he finally continued after another glass of wine. “But I do remember that some of the dishes served at the … at meals had heavy spices. Fragrant ones. And the meat was often served with fruit. Strange that Earthlings prefer vegetables instead.” 

Bulma got up from the table and retrieved a covered bowl from the buffet. She set it down between them and sat down again. 

“Try these. I'm not sure you've had them before.” Bulma took one for herself.

Vegeta reached into the bowl and pulled out a rather ugly looking fruit wrapped in some kind of animal flesh. He immediately popped it into his mouth and chewed. Instantly, he leaned back and groaned a bit, clearly enjoying the prosciutto wrapped date.

“Not strictly desert cuisine I suppose.” Bulma grinned at Vegeta's reaction. “But I'm glad you like them.”

The dinner lasted another hour during which Bulma finished her single plate, Vegeta polished off the entire khuzi by himself, and together, the two had indulged in three bottles of orange wine. Vegeta had eaten the bowl of dates with such gusto, Bulma had promised to have them at tomorrow's dinner as well. The wine had caused Bulma to become tipsy. In truth, she had only finished four glasses, but it was enough to get her blood flowing, causing her white flesh to flush warmly. Vegeta had polished off the majority of the wine and was cracking open a fifth bottle with a slight grin.

Bulma raised her eyebrows, watching him start on the new bottle. His mood had completely changed since he walked in earlier. Curiously, although the wine had begun to loosen his tongue, his body remained rigidly precise in its movements. Bulma saw no signs of physical inebriation. She stood and walked toward the open area. Vegeta downed two full glasses of the wine before following her.

“Vegeta, I..” Bulma turned around and took a step backwards, a bit surprised to see that Vegeta had followed her into the open area of the room. He walked right up to her, but at the last second, side-stepped around her and walked all the way to the balcony. “I was wondering if you could do something for me?” Bulma followed him and stopped a meter or so behind him at the open window.

“What?” Vegeta didn't bother turning around.

“Well, could I hold a ball of ki,” Bulma asked. “I .. I can't make one myself, but maybe if you made it, you could hand it to me? I really want to understand all that better. It would help me improve the gravity chamber.” Vegeta tilted his head up toward the sky and seemed to let out a short breath.

“Come here,” he ordered, stepping slightly back from the balcony. He raised an arm and indicated to Bulma to stand directly in front of him, hips against the balcony so that she faced the garden. As she did, he stepped in surprisingly close behind her and put his arms around hers, holding his palms up to the night sky. “Put your hands on mine.”

Against the low cut back of her dress, Bulma could feel the soft cotton fabric of Vegeta's yukata pressing against her skin. Moreso, she could feel heat radiating from his chest. Bulma placed her hands on Vegeta's, imitating his stance with her palms upward. Vegeta took another step forward, pressing his body snugly against Bulma's forcing her hips to press against the balcony. She swallowed a breath and waited.

“You can't,” Vegeta spoke quietly, his mouth close to her ear. “You can't … _hold_ ki. It doesn't work like that.” He paused. Bulma wasn't sure if he was trying to choose his words carefully, or if he didn't know how to explain it. But they stood, silent, pressing against one another without movement for a moment. And then his fingers slipped between hers, gripping her hands from below.

“Vegeta?” Bulma whispered. She shifted her hips slightly trying to turn around, but the slightest motion caused Vegeta to press his hips more firmly against hers. She was trapped, and while he wasn't drunk, something was clearly off about him. He seemed to have lost his train of thought as his hands gently crushed hers, as his chest pressed firmly against her back, as his head tilted toward her neck.

His lips ran along the curve of her neck, starting at her shoulder then moving slowly up toward her ear. He stopped below her ear lobe, just breathing on her skin, taking in her scent. Bulma shuddered and tilted her head to the side, unwittingly offering up the landscape of her neck.

“It .. doesn't work like this,” Vegeta muttered, pressing his back firmly against Bulma's forcing her body to bend at her hips. Her upper body was now leaning over the edge of the balcony, but she was secured by Vegeta pressing hips into hers. He tightened his arms against her body, keeping their hands extended to the sky. His body was hot, his movements were slow, almost graceful, and his breathing was steady. And then, he pressed his lips against Bulma's neck and muttered, “More like this.”

Instantly, Bulma's skin was enveloped in an effervescent sensation. The warmth fizzled around her body, and ran in rivulets from each point of contact she had with Vegeta. The sensation traced along the lines of her veins, slipping behind her ears, down her neck, along the underside of her breasts, around her waist, across her limbs, and finally between her legs. Bulma gasped audibly, her knees threatening to buckle as the sensation slipped deeply into her body, lingering around her most sensitive nerve endings at her core, before jumping up through her stomach, heart, and then out to her fingertips.

Trapped in a steady pulse of Vegeta's energy, Bulma's breath became irregular, her heart began racing, and her own bodily temperature started to rise. The sensation was so warm to her that small beads of sweat began to form on her forehead and palms. Waves of his energy wrapped around her muscles, pulled at her nerves, and seemed to tighten and pulse inside her. If this went on much longer, she wasn't sure if she would pass out first or collapse from an orgasm. Bulma clenched her eyes shut and dropped her head back on Vegeta's shoulder.

“Make up your mind, Bulma” Vegeta spoke just above a whisper and released her hands and took a single step back from her. As soon as he broke contact, the energy dissipated as well. Bulma immediately felt a chill from its absence and tried to slow her breath. She grabbed the railing of the balcony to steady herself and he placed his hands on her waist to keep her from falling over. He waited for her breath to steady, then stepped back into her space. With a slight nudge of his hips against hers, he slid his hands from her waist down the sides of her hips, stopping just at the crest of her legs, his thumbs hovering over the delicate fabric, pressing just enough so that she could feel a bit of pressure at the top of her pubic bone. “And come see me when you do.”

Vegeta leaned forward and pressed his nose against Bulma's neck again. He took a slow, last breath, parted his lips, pressed his teeth slightly against her skin but pulled himself back before applying any pressure. Swallowing, Vegeta stepped back completely, releasing Bulma.

“Thank you for dinner,” Vegeta added. “It was delicious.” 

–

_Trial 4: How effective is Saiyan metabolism? Research and observational field studies of Saiyans, including known half-Saiyans, show that their metabolic structure seems to operate on a scale difficult for humans to comprehend. While not strictly part of their metabolism, the Saiyan circulatory system easily rivals Earth's most elite athletes. This trial attempted to discover if Saiyan metabolism could be altered in any way to adjust potential stress responses. Subject was offered an appropriately sized meal for training/non-combat needs, along with generous portions of 14% alcoholic drinks. In order to offset the typical speedy metabolic reaction and to enhance possible effects of the alcohol, subject was also served specially formulated dates which had been soaked in a syrup designed to suppress multiple ADH responses within the body._

Bulma picked up one of the test tubes from the centrifuge and examined it for a third time. Five layers of separation, not three, like humans. Not four, as she predicted. Five. 

_Although the subject showed no outward signs of inebriation, after ingestion of the full quantity of ADH suppressant and approximately 4 liters of wine, his characteristic abrasive nature seemed to wane. Subject was shockingly patient and instructive. Remote data gathered during ki event, however, did indicate that subject's energy flow and heart rate were atypical compared to regular practice sessions. Energy flow readout indicates subject exhibited a steady output that, once started, remained high and localized, as opposed to subject's typical flow which manifests in extremely high level, short bursts. Similarly, subject's heart rate did not rise to expected level during output and instead, remained at a resting rate of 35bpm. In consideration of the proposed hypothesis, it seems that suppression of ADH in conjunction with alcoholic consumption is not detrimental to overall energy output, but may actually enhance output control._

Bulma clicked off the lamp at her desk and glanced at the ceiling for a moment. 

_Saiyan metabolism, like their ability to tap into universal energy, may actually be truly unlimited. The question remains: What function makes this possible?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, this chapter turned into a bit of a lengthy beast!


	5. Trial 5: Do Saiyans Have Physical Limitations? (Hot and Sweaty)

Bulma finally hung up the couture gown in her closet and sat down on a small dressing bench. Following dinner, she had quickly switched to her usual lounge clothes—an off the shoulder crop t-shirt from her university days and a pair of jersey cloth shorts—tossing the dress on her bed before slipping into the lab. 

_“It doesn't work like that.”_

Vegeta's words tumbled across her lips for the dozenth time since she finished her lab report and came back to her room. She had been so keen to analyze the data from tonight that she hadn't given much thought to what Vegeta had been saying. Bulma leaned back, flopped her hands onto her lap, and closed her eyes. Her fingers absently began to stroke along her inner thighs as she closed her eyes and tried to remember the sensation Vegeta had given her. 

_“It doesn't work like this.”_

Like an icicle slowly melting onto her skin, a memory dripped across her skin. She had seen other fighters hold ki that didn't belong to them, but Vegeta insisted that Bulma was asking for something impossible. But the way he had changed his words almost seemed to her that it wouldn't have been impossible after all. 

_“It doesn't work like this.”_

In the end, Bulma hadn't held a ball of ki, but she had certainly felt its effects. Never before, in all her experiences around her unusually gifted friends, had anyone touched her or even been near her in such a way that she could know what it was like to hold so much energy within a body. Bulma swallowed, let out a warm breath and gripped the edge of her shirt near her waist with her right hand. Her left hand made slight circles along her inner thigh as her mind wrapped around Vegeta's words once more.

_“It doesn't work like this.”_

The way his energy had spread across her body, licked at her nerves and spilled from her fingertips, Bulma didn't understand why Vegeta had insisted it couldn't work. It clearly had. Sure, she had initially pictured something much, much less … intimate. Just Vegeta forming a light sphere and handing it to her like a delicate bubble. But in the end, she had felt the ki. So what did he mean? If nothing else, the man was careful with his words. Her lab results verified that the alcohol hadn't caused him to lose control of himself. In fact, the drinks and her specialized compound seemed to allow Vegeta even greater focus, so he most likely hadn't misspoken.

With a sigh, Bulma stood and left her closet. Behind her, the lights automatically shut off. She walked over to the large windows of her bedroom and opened the glass doors to step out on her small balcony. With her room on the southeast side of the estate, she had both a view of the gardens and the open area where she had built the gravity room. Both were quiet, though the gardens still had a few solar lights flickering away below. Bulma leaned against the railing with her hip and crossed her arms underneath her breasts. Glancing up at the stars, she searched the night sky for Namek's star. The turmoil they had all gone through up there seemed so distant now. For almost a year, the world had pretended to be at peace. She—and her friends—knew that wouldn't last, but she was determined to do everything she could to help her planet.

Her eyes drifted away from a cluster of dim stars and over to the moon. She had been mistaken earlier tonight. It wasn't full yet. Maybe just a day away from being truly full. It lacked that ethereal halo a truly full moon always had. She traced her fingertips between the line of her collarbone absently. An image suddenly raced across her mind. When she had made her request to Vegeta, he had been looking at the moon as well. And before he had agreed … 

Just as her thoughts tumbled together, the distant hum of the gravity chamber caught her attention. Bulma turned and saw that the machine had its exterior lights on.

“He sighed!” Bulma stood stock straight and stared down at the chamber, wide eyed. A luscious shiver ran through Bulma's body, along her spine, out along her arms and then pooled at her groin. 

_“It doesn't work like this.”_

Vegeta hadn't been drunk. And he hadn't been talking about energy manipulation either. 

“He was talking about …, ” Bulma paused, not really sure she wanted to even say it out loud. Instead, she swallowed the word and stepped back, as if moving further from the gravity chamber. She stared at the unit, conflicted. 

_“Make up your mind, Bulma … and come see me when you do.”_

Another warm mid-summer breeze rustled around her, causing her loose teal hair to brush against the exposed area on the small of her back. It was like hitting playback on this evening. Bulma's mind danced over the sensation of Vegeta pressing in behind her, his cotton yukata skimming along her skin before his chest had pressed against her back.

Bulma could feel her heart speeding up from the memory and without another analytical thought, she raced out of her room, ran down the three flights of stairs to the main floor, and bolted out the side door. Ignoring her lack of shoes, she sprinted across the deep lawn getting little flecks of grass on her feet. She finally stopped in front of the gravity chamber, listening to the sound of her breathing and the steady hum of the machine. Panting heavily with a slight sheen of sweat on her brow, she walked up the steps of the chamber and punched in an override code to open the door. 

The chamber's main turbine powered down and after a moment, the door of the unit hissed and pulled away from the outer wall, opening. Bulma stepped through the doorway, still a bit short of breath, a few tendrils of her teal hair stuck to the side of her cheek, trailing bits of grass into the chamber. She stopped when she saw him, her face flushing almost immediately with warmth.

Vegeta stood with his back to the door breathing heavily. His back glistened with sweat and Bulma stopped to watch a single drop travel down the back of his neck, along his traps, across several dark scars, and down the length of his lats. The droplet settled at the waist of his skintight, blue training pants and absorbed into the fabric. 

“You weren't talking about ki.” Bulma stated in a low voice. She raised one hand to her brow to wipe a bit of her own sweat away, suddenly noting how warm the chamber was. Vegeta stood still, his back expanding with short, deep breaths. Behind her, the door to the gravity chamber hissed on its pneumatic hinges and closed automatically.

“It doesn't work …” Bulma took a hesitant step toward him, her eyes roaming over the scars on his back. She wasn't sure if she had ever noticed how many there were before. “ … like this.”

At that, Vegeta tilted his head back slightly and took a slow breath. From where she was standing, Bulma noted that he had slightly parted his lips again and was likely taking in her scent. A tremble of uncertainty rolled through Bulma's stomach as Vegeta remained quiet. She gripped her fingers together into light fists and took four cautious steps toward him.

“We …,” Bulma barely managed above a whisper now just a meter away from him. “ … don't …” She bit her lip, still not ready to finish the thought. Her body was trembling now. Vegeta's stillness was unnerving. But she realized it was also a sign of permission. He was letting her approach. He was letting her speak. 

He was letting her decide. 

Her mind was slathered with heady thoughts and it caused her skin to pebble, to flush. Her breath was scattered, unsteady. Her nerves throughout her body rippled and ached to spark with true stimulation. Bulma took one more step and positioned herself directly behind Vegeta. In the noticeable heat of the chamber, his sweat filled her senses. With her fingertips hovering just next to Vegeta's obliques, Bulma leaned forward and ran her tongue across Vegeta's right trap, licking up his scent.

“Say it,” Vegeta rumbled. 

Everything hurt. Bulma's nearness, her touch, her breath on his back, her tongue lapping at his sweat. Everything screamed at him to turn around. Instead, he waited. He held himself impossibly still, punishing his body with sharp stabs of ki each time it threatened to move before he knew he should. The effect created a slight buzz of his ki jumping from his flesh, to Bulma's fingers hovering by his bare sides. 

“We don't work like … this.” Bulma spoke with her lips against his back, her breath cooling a small area of his skin. As if in a trance, Bulma repeated the motion again, licking away a small rivulet of his sweat, this time along the center line of his spine. 

“Then choose.” Vegeta hissed, gripping his hands into tight fists. 

He was absolutely sure Bulma didn't realize that by replicating his actions from the sauna, she was offering her body in invitation to his desires, just as he had done for her. When her fingers finally slid along his obliques and began to trace the contours of his abs, Vegeta closed his eyes and sent another shock through his muscles. The punishment held his body still, but it couldn't stop the utterly base images running through his mind or his blood from pooling at his groin. 

Bulma stepped away from Vegeta, dropping her hands to her sides. 

“Vegeta,” Bulma murmured, “Look at me.”

He dropped his head down and let out a single, deep, disappointed breath. Then he turned, not caring that she would see how painfully turned on he was. With his chin dipped a bit, he opened his eyes and looked at Bulma. 

Bulma swallowed and took in the dark fire that burned behind Vegeta's stare. It sent an intense tremor through her body. The sensation prickled her nipples to attention and induced a gush of wetness in her groin. To steady herself, she wove a few of her fingers together in front of her hips. She parted her lips, took a breath, and … said nothing with her voice caught in her throat. 

The two stood, listening to each other's breath, watching droplets of sweat continue to slide across their skin in the heat of the chamber. Neither dared to move.

Voicelessly, not even a whisper, Bulma finally spoke.

“Yes.” She briefly looked down away from his fierce stare, then bit her lower lip lightly and met his gaze again. When she spoke, each word took a shallow breath. “I want you.”

Vegeta listened very carefully, tilting his head slightly and parting his lips. He watched the blood rush beneath Bulma's skin, flushing her cheeks, her exposed stomach, her fingertips. This close, he could feel her temperature rising, her heart racing, her breath speeding up. And without a shred of doubt, he could taste her arousal, her need, her readiness. In a flash, he released the internal chains on his body and shot forward, grabbing Bulma and slamming her against the wall, trapping her upper body between his arms and her lower body with his hips.

“Fill me. Fuck me. Violate me.” Bulma gasped quickly, her arms reaching around behind his neck in an attempt to pull him closer to her.

Vegeta dropped his hands and easily picked Bulma up underneath the tops of her thighs, gripping her ass tightly. The reconfiguration forced Bulma's legs up against her chest, her knees practically hitting her shoulders. Vegeta ground his hips against hers, his hardness against her already soaked center.

Rumbling deeply, his forehead almost leaning against Bulma's, he kept her pressed against the wall, supporting her with one hand while his other grabbed the waistband of her shorts and yanked them off her hips and up the length of her legs. The motion was enough to expose Bulma's dripping pussy, so the shorts stayed hooked under her knees.

As a wave of her musky arousal overwhelmed his senses, Vegeta dropped his forehead against the wall, his mouth wide open. He moved like lightning, quick and desperate, shoving his hand against his own pants, enough to free his throbbing cock. The fabric clung low on his hips as he held the base of his cock and positioned it just at Bulma's entrance. Only then, did he pause again.

Bulma instantly protested at the denial. She locked her nails into the skin on his back, digging hard enough to tear his flesh and release a few drops of blood, and bit Vegeta's cheek without mercy. Vegeta's body responded by flooding her nerve endings with a deep pulse of energy. It coursed across her skin, tightened her nipples, raised her temperature, and sent a shockwave of pleasure down to her groin, pooling around her exposed clit. Bulma moaned loudly and attempted to rock her hips downward onto Vegeta's cock.

Feeling her intense arousal now dripping onto his cock and hand, Vegeta slammed his hips into hers, filling her pussy in one impossibly deep, hard stroke. Bulma cried out and tossed her head back against the wall. Vegeta shoved his body into hers, locking her against the wall with his chest, hips, and cock, and grabbed her hips, pulling her into a deep, penetrating angle. 

Vegeta stopped, the entire length of his cock buried inside Bulma and ran his tongue up the side of her neck, licking the sweat. He waited, feeling Bulma's pussy throb around his shaft, adjusting to his thickness. When her nails began to tear at the flesh on his back again, he took his cue and began thrusting madly in and out of her body. Her wetness splashed across his balls causing the chamber to fill with wet slaps with every upward buck.

Bulma was practically stuck to the wall with sweat, her teal tresses spread out behind her, some stuck to her neck or shoulders. Half-dressed, the two fucked each other madly for several minutes. Bulma's rapid breathing was textured by high pitched gasps and wild moans, while Vegeta responded with deep chuffing grunts. 

Vegeta continued his pounding assault and pushed another wave of his energy through her body, dropping his forehead against hers. Bulma's entire body took on a slight glow and tightened in response to the internal stimulation, her nerve endings exploding in pleasure with an intense orgasm, her pussy quivering in waves around his cock. As her body slowed, she closed her eyes. He grabbed her right hand, laced their fingers together and pressed their hands above her head against the wall. Still holding her hips with his other hand, Vegeta changed his rhythm and began pulling out slowly then shoving back in quickly. He leaned back slightly to watch Bulma's expression.

Bulma, still riding the after effects of her orgasm, managed to look Vegeta in the eyes, panting on each deep thrust. She parted her lips as if she wanted to speak, but her eyes betrayed her. Another orgasm rolled through her body, causing her to lose focus on Vegeta's face. Gripping his hand tightly, her body began to melt against his, her pussy squeezing on his cock in waves as her orgasm finished.

The sensation was finally too much and pushed Vegeta over the edge. With a final firm shove, he buried his cock to the base in her body and let his seed fill her. As his cock pulsed wave after wave of thick cum in to her, Vegeta groaned deeply and dropped his forehead against the wall next to Bulma. They stayed like that, his cock embedded in her as they both caught their breath. 

Bulma gave Vegeta's hand a slight squeeze. He leaned back enough to look into her eyes. Before he could move further or say anything, Bulma pulled herself forward and bit Vegeta's lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Vegeta responded simply by pulling out of her and helping Bulma put her feet on the ground. With a trickle of blood sliding down his chin, he turned away from Bulma and straightened his pants, tucking himself away. 

Bulma steadied herself against the wall and pulled her shorts up over her hips. Swallowing a shaky breath, she finally stood on her own, smoothing her hair into a half twist over her shoulder. The pair stood silently, regarding each other for a moment.

“Well,” she uttered, walking toward Vegeta. “I'll … let you get back … to, uh … this.” Bulma made a half-hearted gesture to the gravity chamber and continued walking, half looking at Vegeta on her way to the door, her cheeks deeply flushed.

Vegeta nodded, not moving to stop the woman. He did run one hand through his hair while watching her exit.

“But.” Bulma paused at the door, glancing over her shoulder but not meeting Vegeta's heated stare. “We should … go over your numbers tomorrow morning.” With a nod to herself, Bulma activated the door to the chamber, waited for the mechanism to pop and hiss, releasing the pneumatic locks, and then stepped out. 

As the door closed, Vegeta walked to the control panel, hovered his fingers over the reset button, but sat down on the floor, lopped his arms over his knees, and closed his eyes.

“So much for that extra two hours of training.” He dropped his head back against the panel and licked at the blood on his lip.

–

_Trial 5: Do Saiyans Have Physical Limitations? All available evidence of Saiyan limitations seems to indicate that they only ever experience temporary limitations. Certainly, each individual must train and practice with a variety of methods to become stronger, to build endurance, to hone their resistance to stress and pain. But unlike Humans who will eventually “max out” and only create permanent damage to muscles, joints, or even their mental stability if they over train, Saiyans seem to hunger for their limits. In fact, recent field data suggests that Saiyans benefit tremendously from being pushed, or pushing themselves, past their limits. This includes any action, including life-threatening injuries, psychological trauma, and even death._

_Because of this, it seems almost impossible to quantify the absolute limit of a Saiyan's physical abilities. Likely, this is why the race was so feared throughout the local galaxy. However, what does seem relevant, and useful as far as the purpose of these trials is concerned, is the ability to recognize current limitations. Careful monitoring of this research trial's subject has revealed multiple plateaus during his on-going training. To this point, each time a plateau has occurred, this researcher has instituted a stress-inducing trial, either focused on the subject's physical limit, or psychological limit. As a result, subject's plateau ended shortly after and subject continued to experienced gains._

_Further analysis of data is needed, however, to determine if physical stress or psychological stress is ultimately more effective for enhancing Saiyan physical abilities._

Bulma finished her entry, saved it to the server, turned off the monitor, crossed her arms on her desk and dropped her head. Almost instantly, she fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... THAT happened.


	6. Trial 6: How Do Saiyans Transform? (Use Your Teeth)

A very stiff Bulma made her way from the lab and back up to her quarters later the next morning. If it hadn't been for the slew of helper bots activating to head out on various maintenance duties, she just might have slept through lunch. She hadn't planned to sleep at her desk, but exhaustion had gotten the better of her. Now, with an exceptionally sore neck, she trudged up the three flights of stairs to her quarters for a much needed shower and change of clothes. Or maybe a bath. A hot, neck-deep bath with eucalyptus and citrus steam. That's exactly what her muscles needed. 

She shut the door to her bedroom and stripped out of her sweaty top and shorts before she got to the bathroom. Pressing a few buttons on a slick wall panel, just inside the doorway, her soaker tub began to fill with hot water. Around the tub, glass separators slid from hidden wall panels and encased the bathing area. A moment later, a visible injection of steam automatically began to fill the newly enclosed glass room. As the tub filled and her bathroom took on the herbaceous, bright scents from the steam, Bulma ran a comb through her hair before stepping under a rinsing shower. She quickly scrubbed her body down with a bit of olive oil soap and rinsed, before making her way to the bath.

Bulma sank in. She was enveloped up to her shoulders in decadently hot, almost burning water. With a deep breath, the eucalyptus steam opened her airways and lingered with a menthol-like buzz in her throat. She leaned her head back against the small waterproof pillow at the back of the tub and stared up at the ceiling.

She moved her fingers around, underneath the water just enough to create gentle ripples on the surface. Between her fingers, the hot water slipped, curled, then dissipated with each motion. Each shift of her body in the water created a similar current effect around some part of her skin. Bulma closed her eyes and pushed the water around in the tub, relishing the familiar sensation.

Letting out a deep sigh, sensations from last night drifted through her mind. Her teeth on Vegeta's cheek, the wetness on her fingertips on Vegeta's back as she drew his blood, his deep, guttural rumbles with each delicious thrust of his body, his fingers slipping between hers as he held her against the metal wall, the speed with which he had taken her after she ordered him to fuck her.

Bulma turned her head to the side, resting her cheek on the pillow and glanced at the wall of the bathroom. A blue digital clock showed that it was almost nine in the morning. If she didn't get downstairs, there would be no conversation with Vegeta this morning. Suppressing the urge to let her fingers roam her body, Bulma got out of the tub. 

One fluffy robe and hair dryer later, Bulma threw her hair back into a low ponytail and slipped into a white cap sleeve shirt and a pair of snug fitting shorts specially outfitted with a few tiny pockets to hold her capsules. She looked at herself in the mirror, her fingers lightly folded near her waist, and scoffed.

“Why would you look any different, Briefs?” Bulma shook her head, grabbed her tablet, and left for the kitchen.

**

Breakfast was surprisingly mundane. She had thought Vegeta might lunge at her, or suggest something lewd, but he just ate and listened to her, staring out the window at the gravity chamber as usual. Even though it appeared he had been waiting for her, evidenced by the stacks of plates already in the sink and a half empty jug of water in front of him, Vegeta simply nodded at her arrival. And even though he was dressed for another day of training in a pair of black shorts and a white shirt, he made no attempt to rush her along. 

Neither did Vegeta seem keen to bring up the previous night. Bulma hadn't quite wrapped her head around everything they did, much less everything she had said, so she wasn't sure if this was a relief or a disappointment. However, she did manage to hush the thought in the back of her head that was disappointed to see Vegeta wearing a shirt again.

Bulma cleared her throat, sat down with a mug of black coffee and her tablet, and focused on the report.

“Over the past week, you have doubled your resting power level and tripled your overall stamina.” Bulma scrolled through her tablet, picking out relevant information to share. “The gravity chamber has automatically recalibrated itself to allow a maximum of 375g with attack bots and 407g without. In terms of his total energy production, you are gaining quickly, but at a predictable rate now. You're not currently stuck on a plateau. Roughly, you've been increasing your overall limit by almost 14% each week.” 

Bulma scrolled through her tablet checking readouts on minor physiological data. A few times, she paused, looked at the report summary, sipped her coffee, and silently ran her own calculations in her head.

“Tch,” Vegeta spat. “Your data is wrong.”

Bulma looked up from her tablet, a twinge of annoyance in her eyes.

“No, it really isn't,” she countered. “I know that my monitoring program has been calibrated correctly and...”

“It's wrong,” Vegeta interrupted. “I'm not improving.” He looked at her then, his black eyes meeting hers. The hair on the back of Bulma's neck prickled. It was uncanny how his stare was equally penetrating regardless of whether they were in a conversation over breakfast or he was fucking her raw in the middle of the night. What may have seemed like anger to Bulma half a year ago, she now realized was impatience. Intense impatience.

“I need more.” Vegeta kept his eyes on hers. Bulma stiffened and gripped her coffee mug tightly.

“Well,” she began cautiously, “maybe I could add a new agility routine..” 

Vegeta rolled his eyes and looked back at the gravity chamber.

“..and offensive program to the bots..”

“That third-class clown without a tail has already ascended!” Vegeta interrupted, shouting. “Meanwhile, I'm crawling like a pup with 14% gains!” Vegeta spat out the number and glared back at Bulma before standing up. “Fuck 14%!”

Abruptly, Vegeta left the kitchen, slamming the side door to the house behind him. Taken aback, Bulma looked out the window, expecting to see the man head to the gravity chamber. Instead, he took one step away from the door and levitated off the ground. In a flash, he arced across the sky and disappeared behind the horizon. 

She relaxed her grip on her coffee and turned off her tablet with a sigh. 

“Maybe it's time to bring in the big guns.” 

**

By mid-day, Bulma was sitting in Chi-Chi's garden, watching the dedicated mother monitor Gohan's study at a nearby table by a lush, shady tree. Her life-long friend dropped from the sky and joined her on the bench.

“Wow, she's letting him do his homework outside,” Bulma chuckled. “Chi-Chi has really relaxed her expectations recently.”

Goku laughed. If the man was ever uncertain about anything, it was how to meet his wife's high standards.

“I guess, but he still does more homework than training,” Goku said. “Although I've tried ta' explain how important these three years will be, Chi-Chi just sees farther in to tha' future than all the rest of us I guess.”

Bulma smiled and took a deep breath of mountain air. It was good to be back on Mount Paozu. Goku's presence was always reassuring. Well, almost always. As long as he wasn't about to start a fight, he was pretty joyful to be around. 

“So, what brings ya out here, Bulma,” Goku asked. “You hopin' to take Chi-Chi into tha' city for a bit of shoppin'?”

“Well, no, Goku. I'm actually here to talk to you,” Bulma paused. “About Vegeta.”

“He ain't been causin' you any problems, right,” Goku asked, laughing a bit. “Ya need me to come straighten him out?”

Bulma laughed a bit at that, but felt a little crappy as she did. 

“No, I'm fine. Really.” Bulma smiled. “He trains every day. And all my readouts confirm that he's making excellent progress. But frankly...” she trailed off.

“It's not enough, is it?” Goku's smile faded.

“No. And he'd _kill_ us if he knew we were talking about him like this. I'm determined to help him. Goku, please,” she urged and took Goku's hand, “You've got to tell me why Vegeta hasn't ascended, like you. Like that stranger that visited us. The two of you are Earth's best bets against what's coming. If you know how to help him, for the sake of our planet, for his sake, you must tell me! You know he wouldn't ever come to you like this.”

Goku looked down at Bulma's hand on his and then up at the sky. 

“Bulma,” Goku paused, “I .. I can't really explain it. I'm not like you. I just do what needs to be done and don't think too much about it. On Namek, I watched him … die! I couldn't bear ta' think I was about ta' lose everyone else too. I couldn't let that happen!”

Bulma sighed. She knew it was a long shot to have Goku try to explain the process to her. It wasn't actually magical the way he improved, but it may have well been. The process was likely too intuitive for Goku to even really be aware of the inner workings. When he needed more, somehow his body found it.

“Can I at least take a measurement of your readings,” Bulma asked. “It'd be helpful for me to run your numbers against his, so that I can see what kind of progress he still needs to make.”

“Sure thing!” Goku hopped up, excited to have an opportunity to show off. “But we shouldn't do that here. Chi-Chi would get SO mad if I disturbed Gohan's studies! Lemme take ya' to the other side of the mountain first.”

Before she could object, Goku grabbed Bulma in a bridal carry and flew through the air so quickly, her hair tie snapped off. The entire trip only took a few seconds, but Bulma's shrieking managed to scatter just about every bird in a five kilometer radius. Goku set Bulma down on the grass and walked away from her, not even seeing the havoc he had caused her hair.

Her blue locks were now truly a mane, tangled and scattered around her face like a nest. With an audible grumble, she shoved her hands across her face and attempted to reconfigure the ponytail while Goku stopped an appropriate distance away from her. Turning around, he let out a snort.

“What the heck happened ta' you, Bulma” Goku shouted. 

“You did!” Bulma shrieked back at him, finally retaming her hair. She pulled a capsule from one of the tiny pockets of her shorts and threw it on the ground. Various portable machines designed for all kinds of use, medical, seismic, energy, and even psychological monitoring popped out onto the grass. Bulma reached for her tablet, activated the device, and turned on a program which activated each of the miniature computers. The cluster of tech came to life, tiny radars popped up, lights began blinking showing active status, and a few unfolded themselves to properly gather ambient data.

“Ok, Goku,” Bulma shouted at her oblivious friend. “I'm ready! Now, to start, I just need to measure your resting power level, not your suppressed power level, so relax. After I give you a thumbs up, power up as high as you can go.”

Goku nodded and stood, feet shoulder width apart, hands by his side. For a second, he closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. Bulma's machines whirred to life, quickly cataloging each little change. Goku turned and looked at Bulma, waiting. She watched the readouts on her tablet carefully and waited for the numbers to stabilize. As soon as they did, she raised her fist in the air and gave Goku a thumbs up.

Instantly, Goku dropped into a powerful squat, his hands at fists near his thighs. He shouted and was engulfed in a golden flare of energy for a split second before his dark eyes flashed green and his hair took on the appearance of Vegeta's tall locks turning a bright amber. As soon as his transformation was complete, he stood up straight again and held his energy steady, waves of yellow light circling him. Bulma barely glanced at her friend, focusing instead on the tablet. 

She held up her hand again, another thumbs up, and Goku's golden aura popped out of existence again, his hair springing back to partially cover his face in thick, black spikes. Internally, he dropped his ambient energy level quite low, as he'd gotten into the habit of suppressing it. Too many broken dishes had gotten him in trouble with Chi-Chi.

“Alright, that should do it Goku,” Bulma tapped a few commands into her tablet and the array of machines powered down. She set the tablet back into the center of the cluster and reactivated the capsule. With a quick poof, the tiny capsule had reformed and she put it back into the pocket of her shorts. “Now, if you would please take me back to my helicopter more slowly this time?”

Goku put his hand behind his head and laughed, a bit guilty.

**

Back in her lab, Bulma poured 2ml of her newest compound out of a small vacuum flask into a test tube marked “Sample B”. The tiny amount of chilled, gray liquid sloshed inside the test tube as she put it into a rack next to another tube with a few drops of clear liquid. Using a long pipette, Bulma transferred the clear liquid into “Sample B”. Initially, the two barely reacted. Their specific densities were different enough that the gray compound floated up to the top. Putting the pipette away, she grabbed a pair of metal tongs and moved the filled test tube into a new rack beneath a buret. Setting the tongs down, she reached for the stopcock and turned. The buret held 15ml of her ADH suppressant syrup. She watched the viscous liquid drip and closed the stopcock after 5ml had drained into the test tube. With the addition of her syrup acting as a solvent, the three liquids slowly coalesced into a homogeneous mixture.

“Genius,” she muttered to herself, lifting the safety glasses off her face to rest atop her head. 

Grabbing the tongs, she picked up the test tube again and took it to a metal tray with tiny divots. Carefully, she poured the solution into the divots then moved the tray into a small vacuum caster. She closed the unit, clicked on the pump and checked the pressure gauge to make sure the unit was sealed correctly. While the machine ran, Bulma returned the test tube and tongs to her work shelf. She tapped a console at the end of the shelf to activate miniature cleaning bots, then crossed the room to hang up her lab coat. With a ding, the vacuum caster completed its cycle and shut itself off. 

Bulma returned to the machine, pulled the tray out and collected the five small pills she had created.

“Too bad I can't test these tonight.” Bulma put the pills into a tiny box and stuck them into her pocket. She then sat down at her computer to type her report. 

Checking her watch, she noted that Panchy's regular semi-formal dinner would be set out in an hour. With Vegeta likely away for at least a week, her experiments were stalled. There was no reason for Bulma not to join. And the company would definitely help keep her distracted from thinking about … other things. She clicked off the lights in her lab and slipped upstairs to change for dinner.

**

Bulma had just put the finishing touches on her hair. Goku's first class flight had really done a number and she found it had been necessary to completely wash her locks to get them back in line. Although she was able to detangle her hair and add a bit of curl, she ultimately opted to wind everything up into a soft bun with a few loose tendrils. She stepped into a short white skirt that had just enough flair so that it moved while she walked and slipped into an off-shoulder red top with bell sleeves. She sat on her bed to strap her feet into blush sandals with just a bit of a heel, then picked up a pair of pearl drop earrings and walked to her window. 

Tilting her head, she put on her first earring and glanced out at the summer evening. The sun had set and the stars were finally showing up in the sky. Below in the garden, the solar lights blinked on in succession, illuminating the various pathways and flower bushes. Tilting her head to the other side, Bulma slipped on the other earring and gasped. 

He was right there! Vegeta had actually come back to the estate and was standing at the reflecting pool at the end of the formal garden. She hadn't really expected to see him for at least a week. Usually when he flipped out, he'd disappear into the wild for a while to destroy something. Still, there was no guarantee he wouldn't fly off again in the next few seconds. 

“Shit!” Bulma finished her primping quickly and hurried out of her room, grabbing the small pill box on the way.

A few minutes later, Bulma stepped onto the smooth pathway heading toward the reflecting pool. The southern gardens were the most stunning, and in summer, nowhere else in the city could even compare. The varieties of flowers had been specifically chosen to attract butterflies and honey bees during the day and fireflies in the evenings. Tonight was no exception. Healthy, lush blooms lined the path, several appearing as if they were twinkling as the luminous bugs danced between the petals and leaves. Bulma walked past a tall hedge and turned onto the path that led to the pool.

Her heels were surprisingly quiet on the pounded dirt path. She would have to thank the worker in charge of the gardening bots for keeping everything in such good shape. She brushed a loose tendril out of her eyes and stopped as she turned the last corner to reach the reflecting pool. There, ten meters from her, Vegeta stood. Surprisingly, he had changed back into his blue training suit, white gloves, and white combat boots. It was a look she hadn't seen on him in quite some time. She guessed he must have needed more rugged clothing for where ever he had disappeared to today.

She waited, knowing he was aware of her presence. It wasn't like her to treat the hardened warrior like a skittish mouse, but she really didn't want to miss this opportunity tonight. She ran her fingers across her skirt a bit nervously and cleared her throat.

“Vegeta.”

Vegeta turned around and looked Bulma over. The sudden sensation of being alone with him, of him looking at her, no—examining her—with such scrutiny caused a flutter to pass through her body. He lingered a bit on her legs before meeting her eyes. His expression seemed neutral, but impatient. Bulma walked up the two small steps to stand in front of him, next to the pool. The night sky bounced across the water and tiny fireflies traced their routes through the darkness. 

Bulma glanced up at the sky and smiled. Almost directly above the pair, the moon finally shone with its full halo. The brightness created a soft glow throughout the entire garden and allowed her to see Vegeta quite clearly.

“I have something for you,” Bulma walked up the path holding the pill box out to him. “I think this might help.”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow.

“Now before you object, I just want you to think of it this way,” Bulma stressed, stopping in front of him. “This is really not too different from practicing in the gravity chamber. It's a tool.” Bulma opened the little box to reveal five gray pills.

“Woman, I am not going to drug myself,” he scoffed.

“Mmm,” Bulma began, taking one of the pills out. “Well, would you consider the use of your tail when you transform to be a drug?”

“I've not known you to speak nonsense unless you're drunk,” he snorted.

“Well I'm not drunk, Vegeta,” Bulma argued. 

Quite suddenly, Vegeta stepped into Bulma's personal space. Now just centimeters from her body, he leaned forward, his lips hovering above hers. He parted his lips and scented her. The movement was so quick that by the time Bulma registered Vegeta's nearness, she felt off balance and began to fall backwards. 

Vegeta slipped a hand around to the small of her back and stabilized her. For the first time in days, a cocky smirk crossed his lips. “Nope, not drunk at all.”

“Very funny. Now are you going to let me explain?” Bulma slipped herself away from his hand and took a half step back from him. “I've managed to synthesize something, specifically for you. You might even say that this was designed for your individual DNA. Look up, Vegeta.”

“I don't need to, Bulma,” Vegeta spoke low, his fingertips brushing against the bottom edges of her skirt. “I know what's up there. I always know. We all … I feel different under a full moon. But it doesn't matter anymore.”

“Because you don't have your tail, right?”

“Correct,” Vegeta said.

“But what if your brain still thought you did?” Bulma smiled slowly and took a single pill from the box, offering it to Vegeta. “When Saiyans become oozaru, they transform, right? Well, I know what you want is ascension, but what if the super Saiyan ability is just a different kind of transformation?” She placed the pill in his gloved hand and watched his reaction.

Vegeta glanced down at the gray pill and considered Bulma's hypothesis.

“You think it makes sense to take a pill before battle? I'm not some broken, old warrior that can't get it up, Woman.” Vegeta closed the pill in his fist. Bulma immediately grabbed at his hand with hers to keep him from crushing it. “And you should know that … exceptionally well now.” 

Caught off guard by his blunt remark, Bulma felt her body lock up and flush with blood. 

“You..” she started, but was interrupted as Vegeta pulled his fist, and by effect her, toward his body, bringing her close to him for the second time. Her left hand shot up to his chest to brace herself from slamming into him while the other tried to pull Vegeta's fist open. “Don't crush it! And no! That's not the plan.”

Face to face now, her chest against his, she swallowed a breath. He was warm, almost hot. Her memory flooded with impressions of the heat she felt on his skin last night. An assumption rose to the surface. His skin had been hot because he had just been exercising. But right now, in the still night air, next to a calm pool, the two simply talking, she realized that even though his body temperature always registered close to human levels, his body must have a process to actively diffuse his energy into heat. She looked down at her hand on his and relaxed her grip. In turn, Vegeta responded by opening his hand.

“Take one to start and see how it makes you feel,” Bulma spoke calmly. “You won't regrow your tail, but the compound should allow you to reaccess your oozaru ability. I assume that without your tail, you won't be able to physically transform, but maybe that's how the ascension works—by redirecting the oozaru energy.” She looked into Vegeta's eyes, raising her eyebrows hopefully.

“Tch.”

Bulma parted her lips to speak, paused, then looked to the reflecting pool. 

Vegeta watched her carefully. She was more nervous than she let on. The blush that had risen to her skin a moment before still lingered, tinting her cheeks. Under the brightness of the full moon, his eyes allowed him to see thin rivers of heat pooling below her skin. Trailing his gaze down from her face, he followed the patterns down to her exposed neck and watched the dim glow travel into her chest. His own energy simmered inside his blood. Given the chance, he would have preferred to toss her to the ground, sink his teeth into her luminescent flesh, and bite his claim on her right this second. He wasn't sure why he hadn't done it last night. She had been so fucking receptive, so desperate for him, so impossibly magnetic to his touch. But today, she didn't even seem willing to acknowledge their first binding. He knew he had lost his temper at breakfast because of it. Sighing once, he tamped back his frustration.

“Say your thoughts.” With her hand still on his chest, he could feel her heart skip a beat, then speed up slightly. 

Bulma waited for a firefly to skim across the water before she finally spoke.

“My theory is that if you're able to experience … whatever it is you need to experience … to ascend at least once, you'll know what your body should feel like the next time you want to try.” She returned her gaze to him, then spoke with measured hesitation. “And all my data shows that you've … already surpassed the point needed to obtain ascension.”

Vegeta's mood darkened instantly. He grabbed Bulma's upper arm and sneered, baring his teeth.

“And just how could you _possibly_ know what that point is,” Vegeta threatened, his words dripping with ire. A single, short spark of white energy crackled around him. The mere suggestion that Bulma might have the answer to his ascension but was keeping it from him lit a fire in his core. This wasn't a fucking game to him.

Bulma gripped the fabric at Vegeta's chest as his energy started to dance across her skin and returned the glare. 

“Because I'm a scientist, Vegeta,” she hissed defensively. “And if I didn't use every shred of knowledge to my advantage ...”

“How do you _know_ , Bulma?” Vegeta interrupted, demanding she stay on topic.

“... then you wouldn't respect me!” Bulma shouted over him and twisted herself out of his grip. 

The accusation pierced him in the gut. She challenged him silently with fiery blue eyes and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to calm the prickling sensation of Vegeta's energy that had licked at her body. 

Not respect her? Is that what she truly thought? How did she think was that even _possible_ after last night? His expression softened as he tamped his energy back inside his core, but he left his lips parted to scent the air. She was metallic with rage and frustration, and … something else. He glanced down at the pill in his hand and closed his mouth. As he did so, the pheromone-laden saliva was able to accurately detect it. Betrayal. 

He closed his eyes and chastised himself. Had she ever been anything less than loyal to his needs? She had given him everything he had needed, and more. He wasn't used to this. Not used to the security, the encouragement, the freedom. Fuck, he wasn't even used to the food yet if he really thought about it.

His self-deprecating thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Bulma's heels as she walked to the edge of the reflecting pool. Opening his eyes, he turned to see her sit down and tuck her legs up against her chest, wrapping her arms around her shins.

“It's fine if you don't want this, Vegeta,” she spoke with an air of defeat. “I know you prefer to do things your way.”

Vegeta sat down silently beside her. Although they had been rare in his life, it was times like this he truly wished he were still whole. He knew he struggled with the nuances of human communication but if he still had his tail, it would have spoken his apology for him. But he didn't. So he did the next best thing.

Bulma turned her head slightly as he sat. Not enough to really look at him, but just to acknowledge his nearness.

Vegeta held out his hand with the pill, looking at it one last time. When he was sure Bulma was looking at the pill as well, he put his hand to his mouth and swallowed it. He realized at that moment that she had been trying to speak to him the way he spoke to her. Through action. Everything she had done, she did with him in mind. Her science wasn't quite as visceral as Saiyan body language, but he began to recognize it for what it was. When he saw a glimpse of a smile return to her lips, he spoke steadily.

“So, what now?”

“Now, we wait.”

With that, he finally looked up at the moon.

–

_Trial 6: How do Saiyans Transform? Perhaps the most stunning aspect of Saiyan genetics is their ability to transform their physical appearance. While this general ability is not unique to Saiyans, they do seem to retain a special quality in that—once transformed—they also increase their overall energy capability. Other races which transform primarily seem to do so as a return to their base form; in other words, the majority of sentient, ki-manipulating races with the ability to transform only do so to return to their highest energy levels, not to gain previously untapped power. The most notorious example of this trait belongs to the Frost Demons who have, at last report, three transformed states in addition to their base appearance._

_However, the mechanism by which Saiyans achieve their transformations is not well understood. For other races, transformation to “return” to a base state could be thought of like releasing a held breath. Certainly, this is not the case for Saiyans. Limited evidence suggests that transformation, other than the oozaru form, requires a massive build up of energy which can only be obtained through persistent training and perfection of energy wielding techniques._

_However, fractionation of Saiyan blood previously revealed three elements identical to Human physiology—plasma, erythrocytes (red blood cells) and a buffy coat (white blood cells and platelets)—and two, as of yet unidentified liquids: a viscous dark red element (Component 4) and a spongy silver element (Component 5). Current working hypothesis is that the darker red liquid likely works with Saiyan platelets to promote rapid healing, while the silver element enhances energy production in some way. To test this theory, Component 5 was combined with liquefied Blutz waves—densely irradiated salt water (Sample B)—and ADH suppressant syrup. By slowing the subject's metabolism down, the effect of the Sample B/Component 5 compound should last longer, thus increasing the possibility for the subject to obtain an ascended state._

_Researcher's note: Subject has disappeared from testing location. Trial to be carried out at next available full moon, 28 days from now, if possible._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely did not plan for this chapter to be as long as it is, but this story seems to have a mind of its own. This chapter turned out to be the most science-heavy of the bunch, so, I hope you enjoyed learning about lab equipment! That's hot, right? :D Curious about Bulma's dinner outfit? cyevi.tumblr.com/post/176948928742


	7. Trial 7: Which Stimulation Affects Saiyans Most? (Soaked Panties)

“VEGETA!!!”

Bulma sobbed. She grabbed Vegeta's shoulders and shook his limp body as much as she could. He was so much heavier than he looked, and even if she could completely lift him up, she didn't want to risk his head smacking back into the concrete of the reflecting pool. Not moments earlier, the two sat staring up at the impeccable full moon, waiting to see if her new pill would have any effect on Vegeta's energy. Distracted by another warm, summer breeze, Bulma had glanced at a passing firefly and that had been the moment Vegeta fell back, smashing into the stone courtyard.

Bulma rapidly checked his vitals, her hand on his wrist, then his neck to identify his pulse. Her other free hand went up to his cheek and gently turned his face toward her. It's not that he had fainted, because his eyes were still open. But he seemed completely unaware of her presence. His mouth was open slightly, so she hoped that his brain was at least still receiving pheromone information about his surroundings. His body was utterly splayed out, and if she didn't know better, she would swear he was just resting after a long workout.

But something was terribly, terribly wrong. His pupils were unfocused, but when she tried to move his head to the side, she saw that he still pointed his eyes at the moon. The expression was halfway between comatose and drunk and it scared the shit out of her. 

“Oh Kami, no,” Bulma muttered quickly, her hand gripping his cheek. She bit her inner cheek and tried to hold back a tear. “Please, no .. this wasn't supposed to happen! VEGETA! Wake up!”

She couldn't leave him like this.

“Dammit, Mom!” Had she not been dressed for dinner, she would have had some of her med capsules with her. Something, anything to get Vegeta stable! Nothing in her previous trials suggested he would have reacted like this. Nothing. But in her arrogance, she had pushed to run a test without her backup systems nearby.

His pulse had actually sped up but his breathing was becoming more and more scattered with each passing second. Double-checking, Bulma pressed her ear against his chest and listened carefully. No.. his pulse hadn't sped up, but it was erratic, double beating, then pausing. Just like his breath. A half breath in, pause, another shallow breath in, then a shuddering breath out.

Her mind raced through possibilities. She couldn't move him, she couldn't help him, she couldn't even contact anyone without leaving his side. Not a single bot was in the area and she didn't have anything with her except the pill case.

Frustrated by her own lack of planning, by Vegeta's worsening situation, she clutched at his body suit near his ribs and clenched her eyes tightly, a few tears starting to escape and run across the bridge of her nose and drip onto his chest. Impulsively, she wrapped her arm under his neck and embraced him in a full hug, squeezing as tightly as she could.

“Stay with me you idiot,” she sobbed quietly. “I know you're stronger than this!”

**

Becoming oozaru was something Vegeta had long ago mastered. Well before his slavery to Frieza, he had been trained by palace elite to have absolute control over his ape form before his fifth year. This was part of what had made him so appealing to the lizard tyrant. Most Saiyans liked to flaunt their great ape, but their fighting was unrefined in that form. Sheer, brute force combined with overwhelming power and size was almost always enough for conquering a planet. 

But Vegeta had been different. Had always been different. His lineage ensured he would always be the best of the best, and have the greatest opportunities of his race. But unlike most royalty, he refused to take his ability for granted. He tolerated no mistakes from himself and while those around him had always praised him for his natural-born ability, Vegeta backed up that ability with training. His whole life was an endless marathon of training, both by his tutors, his tormentors, and then more by himself. What others called arrogance, he called discipline.

Bulma's theory was amusing, but he believed it was wrong. After all, that third-class hadn't needed any special expertise with his oozaru in order to ascend. Vegeta's ability to remain in full, conscious control of his mind and body while transformed was an asset. He understood what happened to his body in the process and how to manipulate the massive form. He also knew that without his tail, all the moonlight ever did for him was put him on edge. Transformation without a tail was impossible, and so this pill she had invented would likely, at best, just heighten his senses a little more. 

He had been avoiding the damn moon all evening because it had already been driving him nuts. It didn't help when she had arrived, and it sure and hell hadn't helped for her to ask him to look up at it. The ambient glow was already enough to put all his senses on high alert and the addition of her presence created enough environmental distraction that mentally, it was like his senses were still in the gravity chamber. 

In the split second after Bulma told him to wait for the effects but before he finally looked up at the moon, he berated himself one more time. He knew, deep within his core, that if Bulma had actually told him she was deliberately keeping the secret of ascension from him, he probably would have killed her.

He had to be better than that. 

The moon, his frustration with his lack of progress, the woman next to him seeping a constant flood of want toward him, and finally a hint from her that she might know something. The universe was definitely testing his patience. He needed to focus. And the only way he knew how to do that was through the discipline of his body.

So, he looked up at the moon and let the waves run through him, lacing into his skin and blood, seeping into his bones and expanding around his organs. The first impression had been familiar. A surge of his own energy becoming unhinged and churning in his core. He focused on this, tamping it down as a form of physical meditation. But he suddenly found he couldn't look away from the moon, his body had locked up, and a torrent of energy bit into his nerves. With a gasp, he felt something hard against his back and head. Whatever it was, it was heavy. He couldn't move away from the heavy thing.

Then somewhere far away, he heard his name. He couldn't remember the moon looking so full, so dense with light. He couldn't remember a moon that ever made him feel warm like this one. There was no need to look away. But there was something cool on his cheek. A fire spread from behind his eyes, through his spine, and flared into his muscles. The moon seemed larger now, and wonderfully, it was no longer pale white. The moon began to pulse with gold, and he felt within him, rivulets of energy stabbing at his heart. Around him, he could scent need, and fear. No need to even form a fist, it was happening. He was going to transform.

As he attempted to gather his energy in his body, the moon shifted again. He roared as it melted into red and attempted to thrash his body in a rage, but the light held him steady as if under the pressure of a thousand moons. The light surged inside his chest and exploded from his hands. As the first wave of pressure left him, he managed to reach out and grab something fleshy nearby. The deep red moon whispered to him—a long forgotten battle cry of his people—urging him to begin. With a grin, he parted his lips and took in the flavor of the air. Terror. Sweet, unrestrained terror surrounded him. No longer could he feel something hard against his back. He kept a firm grip on the soft thing beside him. It would make a good drink later.

For now, he just wanted space to flex his body, to move with the extent of his power. With a sinister laugh, he stood and immediately took to the air, flying in the direction of the moon. How wonderful it felt to be oozaru again! The surges of power, the speed, the complete domination over this pathetic planet! Why had he avoided the moon? This was his blood, his life, his legacy! 

But then, again, he heard someone call his name. It was far away. And it did not sound like one of his subjects. It sounded like … like one of those pathetic weaklings he crushed on a planet long ago. The deep red moon allowed him to look away now, and he scanned the land below for a suitable spot to destroy with his power. Below him, he found a high cliff backed with massive trees standing above an empty valley. The perfect place for him to stretch his newfound energy.

He set down on the edge of the cliff and threw the fleshy drink behind him. He heard it thunk against a tree, cry out, and then still itself. Good, it could wait. Vegeta parted his lips and looked back up at the moon. It loomed so large, so close before him. He wondered when the second moon would rise and glanced around at the valley below. He took a deep breath of the land around him, expecting aridness, heat, and salt. Instead, a thick wave of lush greenery, sap, fresh water, and something metallic jabbed at his senses. 

Confused, he turned and scented the air again, looking back toward the forest. There, at the treeline, a crumpled being with a line of fresh blood across her face. Ahh, yes. Fresh blood. Maybe it was time for a celebratory drink after all. His entire planet would rejoice at his ascension. He might as well relish his victory first. Vegeta advanced on the creature, cracked his neck once, and let a surge of energy course through his body and sent a dismissive blast of energy off to the side. 

**

A massive explosion in the distance shook the ground against Bulma, abruptly waking her. A prickling sensation danced across Bulma's skin. And something inside her hurt. Blinking, she spit out the grass that was in her mouth and lifted her head. She could feel blood on her face. She lifted her hand to wipe it out of the way, but her wrist was suddenly snapped away in a vice-like grip and immediately after, her entire body was yanked off the ground, suspended by her arm, and shoved against a tree. 

“Fuck!” Bulma groaned as her shoulder threatened to pop out of its joint. She tried to get bearings on her surroundings as pain coursed through her body, pooling at her left hip. Before she could focus her eyes, a very wet, very hot tongue ran up the side of her face, licking the streak of blood away from her flesh. A voltaic presence scattered across her flesh sending an intense shiver down Bulma's spine. She finally raised her head to get a look at the man pinning her to the tree.

“Oh .. shit,” she whispered, prudently deciding to hold her body as still as possible. A few centimeters away from her face loomed not a man, but a beast. Vegeta's eyes bored into her. But long gone were his steady, intense dark pools of black. Instead, a deadly solid red glare covered his scleras and pupils. As he moved his head around, small glimpses of reflective light bounce off the back of his retinas giving him the appearance of a wild predator hunting in the night. Vegeta's mouth was open, likely scenting her and the area around them. But what caught and tightly held her attention, were the fangs. His lips were pulled back and two viciously sharp fangs were protruding well below his tooth line.

Without warning, Vegeta jerked his head forward and shoved his nose and mouth against Bulma's neck. He covered her skin with a hot, heavy breath and followed with another rough lick up the line of her neck to just below her jawline. His mouth stopped shy of her earlobe and she could feel his teeth sliding along her skin. Bulma jolted her hand up and shoved against his chest, desperate to hold him back. A worthless gamble given their differences in strength, but there was no way she was going down without a fight. He seemed to ignore her hand and spoke with a dark rumbling voice, just shy of a growl.

“I,” Vegeta paused, taking in a long, deep breath from Bulma's skin as his free hand grabbed her chin and tilted her head further to one side, “can taste … us … in your blood.” He pulled his head back and tilted her head in the opposite direction, examining the other side of Bulma's neck. Although his movements were slower, more exacting now, his grip on her wrist only tightened. 

“Vegeta.” Bulma whispered cautiously and pinched her eyes shut. Vegeta's grip on her face tightened and he yanked her chin back to center.

“You DARE address your prince without title?” Vegeta threatened. “Look at me before I eviscerate you!”

Bulma bit her tongue and tried to steady her nerves. _OK Briefs, think! Vegeta is completely out of his mind and possibly has no self control right now. How do you bring him back? Think!!_

Hoping to placate him for a at least a few seconds, Bulma opened her eyes and met his wild stare with her own. Brilliant blue eyes looked back at the crazed Saiyan with as much ferocity as she could muster. If nothing else, she knew Saiyans respected a strong opponent, so for now, she would fake that. Noting that he had not fully closed his mouth, Bulma parted her lips and let out a slow breath hoping any kind of familiar scent would trigger a different memory for him.

Bulma watched him take in the scent as his glove covered thumb brushed across her lips. He seemed to study her for a minute, the air still crackling with his energy. Keeping his hand on her chin, he relaxed his grip on her wrist just enough to allow blood to flow into her hand again, though not enough for her to pull her arm away. Immediately, her hand filled with sharp pinpricks while a deep, dull ache radiated somewhere in her wrist. Bulma let out a quiet moan from the onset of the pain as it rushed throughout her entire body. With Vegeta's thumb still pressed against her lips, this caused her teeth to brush against the surface of his glove.

He stilled and focused intently on her mouth. 

_Think, Briefs! What can pull him back? Repetition. Something he's done before, something to pull him into a different moment, a different sensation._

Bulma felt a slow shiver run down her spine. He wasn't moving. Surrounded by a crackling storm of his own energy, his body had become a statue, gripping her wrist above her head with one hand and her chin with the other. He had been still and very observant before, and she had felt … this … before too, but what was the connection?

Bulma swallowed a breath. This caused her teeth again to brush against his thumb and finally, he spoke.

“Why aren't you mine?” His voice rumbled just above a whisper. Vegeta trailed his gloved hand down from her lips slowly, his fingers tracing along the skin of her throat and back onto her neck. With a firm, slow motion, he tilted her head again to the side, dropping his eyes to the bare flesh. His upper hand turned slightly, regripping her wrist so that his thumb slid across the flat of her palm and stopped in the center. He took one step closer to Bulma, his chest just a few centimeters away from hers.

_Mine? His? Is this some kind of claim made by royals?_

Bulma's mind ran back through her last several encounters with Vegeta. Her body responded with a flush as the memory of the two of them in the gravity chamber filled her thoughts first. Inadvertently, she clenched her palm against his chest, her nails digging into his blue suit slightly. How he positioned them now was eerily close to the way he had taken her last night, and her body oozed with the memory. His grip on her wrist, his nearness, his heat, his hard flesh sliding into her, opening her, filling her. Filling her. Bulma blushed fiercely and tore her eyes from Vegeta's face, stealing a glance up at the moon. 

After dinner, he had pressed against her and filled her with his own energy on the balcony. He had spoken calmly, so in control, and masterfully slid his own spirit through her veins as she stood in his arms. But the day before that, in the sauna. he had pinned her down, licked at her skin, and by all accounts, he had seemed to almost lose control right then. But something had brought him back. By her count, he had been completely in control of himself in the gravity chamber. He had done nothing without her approval; not even move. Everything he had done to her, she had asked for. But he must have lost some of his control in the sauna because of the way he had attacked her. Just like tonight. 

The heat of her thoughts ran through her body as his gloved hand continued its examination, sliding down from her neck, along her exposed collarbone, and down the outer side of her breast. Through the fabric of her red top, his fingers traced a slow line, leaving small pinpricks of his energy. Bulma slightly shifted her spine hoping to ignore the heat beginning to center between her legs. As if her slight movement had challenged him, he instantly responded by slipping his lower hand around the side of her ribs and down her spine, stopping only at her lower back. Before she could respond, he yanked her body up against his, their hips pressed firmly together.

“Answer your prince, subject” he muttered again, his solid red eyes back on hers. His breath was steady, but deep and with each exhale, Bulma caught a tiny vibration from his throat. She felt his hand roaming around the small of her back underneath her shirt before his gloved fingertips dipped between the waist of her skirt and pressed lower along her spine at the base of her lumbar vertebrae. With her hand firmly pressed against his chest she felt his heartbeat racing much more than it should have been. 

_Maybe it's the blood? But he's already tasted mine and he's still out of it, so that can't be it. And this is the first time it's been my blood._

As her mind raced through possibilities, Vegeta finally released her wrist, sliding his hand slowly down her arm until his gloved fingers reached the voluminous sleeves of her top. He traced the seam of the fabric along her shoulder, slowly descending until he reached her breast. He then flattened his hand, pressing his palm just underneath the swell of her breast at her ribs, resting his thumb a few millimeters below her now puckering nipple. Bulma bit down on the desire to moan and tried once more to shift her hips to relieve the desire between her legs. Nothing about his movements could be misconstrued as threatening anymore. Vegeta, lost in the drug and his memories, was now blatantly pawing at her.

“Your … Highness,” Bulma tested out quietly, “I'm injured and bleeding. Please release me.”

Vegeta's thumb slid across her breast, again just missing her nipple as his other fingers gripped at her cropped top, bunching it upwards and exposing her ribs. Slowly, he tilted his head and looked down at her body. Bulma was pretty sure that when Vegeta had grabbed her in the garden and took off, he cracked one of her ribs in the process. Being flung onto the ground after their flight hadn't helped. 

“Mm, indeed. But now it's your turn.” Vegeta brought his roaming hand up to Bulma's chin and ever so lightly pulled her toward him. Without pupils, his glaring red eyes threatened her every move. Vegeta grinned enough to show off his fangs again, then stood up straight and removed his hand from Bulma's lower back. He raised it out to the side, as if inviting her to come through a door. “Take your pick.”

_My turn? For what? At least he seems to be responsive now. He seems interested in the fact that I'm injured and hasn't attempted to injure me any further. Wait … my turn? To injure him?_

Bulma's mind flashed back to the sauna. After Vegeta had pinned her down but before he had run his tongue between her breasts, she had … she had injured him! She had dug her nails into his arms as defense. Even before he had pinned her down, she had slapped him. Same for last night in the gravity chamber. After she pleaded for him to fuck her, but before he actually shoved his thick cock between her legs, he had paused. And she had dug her nails into his flesh. Only then, had he taken her. 

_I know I'm not stronger than him, so how have I been able to injure him at all. Unless … Each time I've injured him, he actually saw it as an invitation? There's no reason to see me as a threat. He has let me injure him … because he … likes it?_

Reasoning quickly that Vegeta was in full-blown Saiyan mode, it seemed to her that the safest course of action would be to try and injure him. He seemed to be waiting for it, openly inviting her to some how wound him. However, at the moment, his body felt like tempered steel. Gone was any sense of softness from his form. The partial oozaru oozing from his appearance seemed to have altered the sensitivity of his skin, perhaps in preparation for a larger transformation. If she were to injure him in order to bring his mind back to her, how should she go about it?

As she pondered, Vegeta slowly traced his gloved fingers from her chin down the side of her neck and across her collarbone. He grazed along the low neckline of her shirt before dropping his hand to match the other, spread out to the side, leaving his body completely open to attack. 

“Well?” Vegeta waited. As overtly aggressive and powerful as Vegeta seemed in his partially transformed state, his actions seemed almost submissive to her. But, had he ever approached her without her explicit consent? Each time they had been this close, this intimate, he had been surprisingly still, patient, and open in a way she was sure no one else had ever seen from the man. 

_He wants this._

Bulma decided to risk her hypothesis. She leaned forward, taking a half step into his personal space, so that their bodies were mere centimeters from touching. 

**

_Finally._

Finally, the woman without a tail moved toward him. His senses had been going wild with every breath he took, but his body would not let him take her without her signal to him. He didn't understand what had taken her so long to reciprocate his advances when she so clearly wanted him, since she had clearly already been with him before, since she had already allowed her body to be injured by his hand. The taste of her blood was unmistakable and had redirected the oozaru from an absolute need for destruction to a deep, coursing lust. 

It didn't matter how clearly he could see the shockwaves of heat rippling through her body inside her blood each time he had squeezed down on her wrist. How clearly her heat had pooled in her cheeks, in her breasts, and at her groin. It didn't matter that he knew her undergarments were already soaked with her desire and how she was twisting her body as if to free her skin from its confinements. It didn't matter how much he wanted to slip his tongue between those lush folds between her legs and drink her every drop of want. It didn't matter that she wasn't an elite, or first, or even second class, and probably wasn't even a Saiyan. This woman was already his. Had already been his, even if he could not place her face. He could feel how his energy slipped so willingly across her skin, wrapped about her and returned to him with ease. 

As she stepped forward, her body still not touching his, the beast within him roared with angry impatience. With instinctual response, he growled at her, baring his teeth. Still, he left his body rigid and his arms wide, practically begging for her response. Her slowness created a deep ache of need within his own groin and burned his muscles in their stillness. Oh how he would make her beg in return if she would just .. let .. him!

Inside his chest, the oozaru rumbled, roared, and rattled at the cage of mental control his body currently held. Until this woman accepted him, he would not release himself upon her. He stood stock still, wrapping his energy into a massive pit within himself, the pressure building like a triggered, trapped bomb. He watched her raise her hands slowly, cautiously, towards his face but still refused to move. She seemed unbelievably weak to him. Why had he taken her before? What benefit would there be to the royal line? He couldn't recall rutting with slaves or prisoners before, but a sensation deep in his spine held him still as he looked at this frail, familiar creature. 

_Her scent is unmistakable. Her body aches for my own energy because it has been its vessel before. So why doesn't she have my mark?_

The woman had finally placed her fingertips against his cheekbones. A strange one, this. Her heart was racing and he could taste a resonating fear from her sweat. But her eyes pierced him as only the fiercest warriors could. Her hands did not tremble as her fingers arched slightly, but he saw the beads of sweat budding on her flesh. 

_Good, she should fear her Prince. But if she doesn't respond soon …_

He watched the woman take in a slight breath, then hold it, and clench her teeth. He almost wanted to smile, but his impatience got the better of him and he let out another growl, lapping at his fangs to taste her determination. He shoved back the oozaru as deeply as he could and dropped his energy as low as it could possibly go so she could do what needed to be done. He wouldn't be able to hold back this much power for very long, but the woman was ready. 

With a swift motion, the woman raked her nails as hard as she could down the length of his cheeks. As her hands flew down, he caught both her wrists and grinned as three lines of fresh blood slipped down his face. 

“Mine.” 

Inside him, the beast exploded. His muscles tensed, expanded and a cyclone of celadon energy enveloped the two. He slipped both her wrists into one hand and slipped the other underneath her skirt. Gloved fingers slipped along her dripping inner thighs for a moment to confirm what he already knew. His fingers followed the line of wetness along her thigh up to her panties and pressed against the soaked fabric with an audible squish as his fingers rubbed the fabric between her plump folds. The woman cried out in surprise, but her body, as he expected, did not resist his ministrations. Her hips pressed toward his hand, her back began to arch in anticipation, and her skin flushed a wonderfully warm pink. Her own mouth fell open and he watched her tongue slightly touch her lower lip.

_A little punishment before the pleasure is due for making me wait. But fuck if she doesn't want me to rut her like a beast in heat this second._

“Kneel, and show your Prince what you offer.” 

Vegeta released Bulma's wrists but allowed his lower hand to linger, pressing two fingertips between her covered folds with a slow, forward stroke. As he watched the sensation run from the nerves of her clit up through her stomach and across her flesh, he stepped back and crossed his arms with a rumble in his throat. If he had to wait, so did she.

**

_Oh Kami, I'm on fire. Can I really .. in front of him?_

Bulma was soaked, shivering, and already on the edge of orgasm when Vegeta pulled away from her. Drawing his blood seemed to have focused him at least. He was slightly calmer now, although his eyes were still lost in the pull of the oozaru and he clearly still thought he was on another planet. He didn't seem to know exactly who she was, but it was very clear that he wanted her. The massive bulge straining against his training suit made his desires thigh-squirmingly obvious to her. 

She looked at him, took in a shuddering breath and slipped her fingers under her skirt, pulling at the waistband of her panties. She pushed the fabric down over the curve of her hips, pulling lewdly away from the suction of her pussy lips, and slid them down to her knees until they fell to the ground. A trail of her own wetness followed the fabric down and glistened in the moonlight along her thigh. Drunk on her own lust for the man, Bulma dropped to her knees, keeping her eyes on his. Again, he growled, his fangs showing slightly, but he did not move toward her.

_He wants more? Well, so do you, Briefs._

She brought her hands back up to her waist, reached around behind her and unclasped the white skirt, allowing it to fall to the ground around her knees. The sensation of being naked and dripping wet from the waist down struck her like a cool breeze. She was suddenly thankful that they were in the middle of nowhere. But, the feeling was unbelievably delicious, and she realized she wanted more. Licking her lips, her fingers grazed along her sides and gripped the bottom of her red crop top, pulling it up, over her head in a single motion. She flipped the fabric behind her and allowed her upstretched arms to linger behind her head as she shifted her shoulders a bit, rolling her still covered breasts toward Vegeta.

The strapless, nude bra didn't really leave much to the imagination, especially with her nipples perfectly hard and pressing against the sheer mesh fabric, but she wanted it off. Something deep inside her wanted to be completely naked in front of him. To be utterly dripping and exposed and waiting for his touch. She brought her hands down and twisted the small front clasp between her breasts, then let the garment fall behind her as well.

Bulma now kneeled completely bare, panting softly, her knees slightly apart and her breasts fully exposed in the light of the full moon. In front of her, Vegeta stood watching her. Red eyes, fangs on his lips, arms crossed, and fully clothed in his gloves, blue training suit, and boots. Around him, sparks of yellow and white energy popped and jumped over to her flesh, brushing against her like electric feathers. And still, he made no move to touch her. 

With a furious blush, Bulma realized that he was still waiting for a bigger “offer”. She moved her hands back toward her breasts and scooped her fingers underneath the plump flesh, lifting them slightly. This small act of presenting her breasts to him sent a small shockwave of pleasure from her exposed nipples straight to her clit, and she felt her pussy clench in anticipation. But when he spoke suddenly, with that impossibly feral voice, a new flood of wetness filled her and began to bead at her exposed lips.

“Now, spread your knees.” Vegeta crouched down, resting one elbow on his thigh. His eyes, although now level with hers, waited and watched her hips, her legs, her pussy.

The inescapable sensation of being watched caused her to moan, but she didn't dare ignore the request. She shuffled a bit and moved her knees a few centimeters apart. 

Vegeta growled quietly in his throat. 

Heeding his order, she shifted again, widening her knees until they were past the width of her shoulders. In this new position, she could feel the licks from his energy slipping along her inner thighs and the edges of her pussy. Bulma couldn't help but let out a soft gasp and rock her hips forward slightly.

Vegeta once again slipped a gloved hand between her legs, this time tracing the line of wetness up her inner thigh to its source. He lingered at her lower lips, slipping the wet cloth of his gloves along the outer edge of her glistening pussy, stroking with sadistic gentleness. She knew her desire was unmistakable and all she could picture at this point was how delicious it would feel when he would finally fill her with his cock. Her mind swirled with images of being stretched and stuffed full to the base, his body slapping against hers as he took her in wild abandon, leaving her sore yet again.

But his fingers continued to barely graze her skin in slow back and forth strokes. She unwittingly squeezed her breasts and began to drop one hand between her own legs to alleviate the unrelenting pressure building inside her, but he quickly caught her hand and replaced it under her breast. 

_I need this so badly. Why won't he do more?? How in the hell does he have so much control right now?_

Trapped under his slow ministrations, her body shivered in the moonlight. Exposed, spread, and quickly losing her mind to her own lust, she closed her eyes and thrust her hips again, hoping to force additional contact between her pussy and his hand. The cool, leather-like fabric of his glove was now coated with her wetness and the way he intentionally avoided her clit was starting to drive her mad.

“Please ... ” Bulma whimpered and again rocked her hips downward into his hand. 

“Please, what?” Vegeta deftly avoided the motion of her hips and continued his slow strokes between her legs.

“Please, Your Highness, spread me open.” Bulma moaned with desperation, abandoning any pretense of not wanting to play the game. All she wanted at this point were his fingers stuffed inside her, or his tongue lapping between her legs. She didn't care, as long as she got just a bit more. Her body shuddered internally, on a plateau of desire but unable to ascend or fall. Her fingers gripped at her breasts and finally crept up to her bare, painfully hard nipples hoping for a quick squeeze. At the same time, Vegeta's lower hand pulled away from her completely.

She groaned, opened her eyes and froze. Vegeta was looking right at her with very confused, black eyes.

“.. Bulma?”

 

 

 

 

–

_Trial 7: Which stimulation affects Saiyans most?_

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long, long delay for this chapter after having to take a week off due to work obligations avalanching. Unfortunately, some of those obligations required intensive creative output as well, so I found myself pretty drained for a while. Clocking in at almost 6000 words, this is the longest chapter so far and taken together, this story now has passed the length of half a novel. I'm seriously shocked. I never intended for it to get quite this large. The good news is, I know how this story is going to end and we have two more chapters to make that happen. The bad news is that I suspect the next chapters will be just as long. Hopefully, that's not such a bad thing?


	8. Trial 7: Ongoing (Weak in the Knees)

Vegeta never considered himself to be a shy man. 

Given what life had thrown at him, shyness was incompatible with survival. Same with modesty. He'd been in multiple battles having lost both armor and clothing, but when you're fighting for your life, modesty is the last of your concerns. As a member of the royal house, he had been routinely inspected for imperfections and perfection alike. He'd been subject to the humiliating whims of a tyrant who threatened him daily with endless methods of mockery and abuse. Through every moment, it didn't matter if he hated it, or if he felt shame. 

Life taught him that survival was paramount, and no situation was safe from shifting at the last moment. Rolling with the punches, literally and figuratively kept him alive.

There had even been a time Frieza had beaten him into bloody unconsciousness for an eye roll, thrown him into a healing chamber, and told the scientists to keep him asleep after removal from the pod. Waking from a healing rest by having his arm broken wasn't the worst experience of his life, but it came pretty close. Even then, with only milliseconds to assess the situation, he had resisted the urge to act impulsively. As difficult as that had been, as angry as Vegeta was in that moment, his ability to push aside his thoughts of revenge ended up saving Raditz. The tyrant had thought it would be hilarious to blame Vegeta for Raditz's missing tail by setting them up in a cruel, mutual torture predicament device. Had Vegeta reacted with violence to the broken arm, it would have caused the maniacal contraption Frieza had locked Raditz into, to activate and slice off the man's tail. 

If you're awake, you're surviving or dying. Fate never saw fit to coddle his consciousness. His life had been such a stark binary for so long that even the idea that there was another way to live was ultimately, a threat. 

Of course, Vegeta knew that there were a few people and creatures in the universe who didn't live by this code, but from experience, they were dead now, often by his own hand. There had only been one exception in his violent life, and he couldn't have been more shocked to discover that a fellow Saiyan had been the one to not only challenge this code, but thrive beyond his wildest expectations. Somehow, Kakarot had achieved what he could not. 

The beginning of his first fight with the man had simply felt like another desperate idiot trying to act tough to save his pathetic world, but neither the severity of his own injuries nor the impressive quality by which the third class had obviously gained skill in the middle of their fight were lessons he could afford to ignore. While the fool loved the thrill of a fight, he was so damn different from every other Saiyan because of his lack of bloodlust. He fought for fun, for experience, and even out of a sense of friendship, but never for sheer violence. 

Meeting Kakarot had been the first step on this unsteady path of change with the Earthlings. Something about the man hinted at the path to his own ascension. Although he didn't have a way off the planet after being wished back from the dead, and he was sure to everyone else it looked like he was simply trapped, Vegeta decided to give Earthling life a genuine chance. There must be something to the way they all lived that had helped his rival achieve the impossible before him. 

And yes, that life included putting up with the Earthlings. One, in particular. One with uncommon coloring and extraordinary mental prowess. Although Vegeta respected raw strength and fighting ability, he knew talent when he saw it. He had quickly realized that the Earth woman was the reason for the arrival of the Earthlings—a non-spacefaring species landing halfway across the galaxy—on Namek, for their uncanny ability to track down the wishing orbs, and ultimately, even for setting the stage for Kakarot's victory. Bulma was the watch maker of the Earthlings' fates and her inventions were the mainspring of their success. 

When he grasped the full extent of her genius, he realized it would only be to his advantage to accept her incredibly brash and forward nature. Annoyance was simply not an excuse for passing up the opportunity for improvement. Simply being near her was an asset. But being the direct benefit of her genius was a sure-fire path toward his own success. 

He wasn't an idiot. He knew she had been running experiments on him since the day he followed her into her family palace. The woman wasn't exactly subtle with her bragging. All the blunt questions, the excuses to be closer to him, to make physical contact with him, the careful way she moved around him, the way she watched him with unflinching curiosity, the way she practically lavished attention on his needs around the clock. Even when she revealed the inner workings of her machines and data gathering, he could feel lies of omission in her speech. He still couldn't read Earth Standard, but even if he could, he was confident that reading through Bulma's reports would reveal a much more extensive series of tests than she ever discussed. But it had been simple to let her believe that those experiments were still a secret from him. 

To date, her constant pestering had been annoying and a little invasive, but mostly helpful. He'd gained a significant level of understanding about himself in the process and yes, he had improved drastically. And frankly, her constant attention on him felt … deserved. As if the universe was finally balancing itself out for him. For all the time he had spent as nothing more than a cog of interplanetary warfare, Bulma's attention made him, for once, actually feel a bit more like royalty. A prince deserving of individualized, special attention.

But somewhere along the way, that line between objective improvement and subjective attention had become blurred. 

Two weeks ago, on his way back from the gravity chamber one evening, he realized that Bulma had guests in the kitchen. After another disappointing fifteen hours of training, the last thing he needed was forced small talk with Kakarot and his young family. He suppressed his power level to avoid detection, and opted to take the back door into the main house, which allowed him to head up the stairs out of sight of the kitchen. But, curiosity got the better of him, and he paused, out of view of the others, to listen for a bit.

“Gohan is improvin' every day,” Chichi preened. “So far he's taken a half dozen practice entrance exams n' gotten perfect scores on each one. If he keeps this up, he'll be able to get into tha best universities in a few years!”

“Geez mom!” Gohan pretended to whine while he grabbed another morsel of food. “It's not that big of a deal, Bulma. Mom has really helped keep my study schedule together even though Dad and I are training each day.”

“But Chichi,” Kakarot managed to complain with his mouth full of some kind of food, “Gohan really needs ta be at his strongest! Couldn't we, ya know, put his school work on hold, for … well, the next three years? I mean, if tha world is destroyed, Gohan won't get into any university!”

Vegeta heard Bulma gasp just as he was shaking his head from the idiot's request. Yes, training was important, but as strong as Gohan was, he was positive that the boy's best strength would actually be as a strategic fighter. Chichi was a pain to be around. Her protocol and rituals were too steeped in Earthling culture for Vegeta to really care to learn, but he realized that her unflinching requirement that Gohan keep up with his academic studies might be the primary force behind Gohan's difference in his fighting style from his father's.

As he stood and walked up the stairs, ignoring the earsplitting complaints from Kakarot's wife, he suppressed a small chuckle. That idiot really couldn't see outside of his own perspective, could he? Chichi was doing just as much good for Gohan as Kakarot was, but it was unlikely the fool would recognize the contribution for what it was. 

At the top of the landing, he could hear Kakarot relenting to Chichi's insistence on the study schedule. His smirk faded as he considered woman's impact not just on her son, but also her husband. Was it possible that her restraints on his life had somehow aided Kakarot as well? Next to the top of the stairwell, Vegeta glanced up at the Brief's family portrait wall. Generations of Bulma's family captured in painting, photographs, and even a few digital movies stared back at him. For a singular moment, his mind drifted back to the lineage of his own royal family, now lost to the stars. Before he let himself wallow too long in a pity fest of what could have been, his eyes drifted to a stunning photo of the heiress herself. 

Unlike the posed images covering the wall, this photo was taken as a part of what looked to be a newspaper interview. As a part of the story, the photographer had captured Bulma sitting at her lab desk, goggles over her forehead and hairline, a grease and dust covered lab coat covering some kind of tight fitting, way-too-low-cut top for a lab, and multi-pocketed shorts. She wasn't looking at the camera, but at the item in her hand with utter fascination. 

The woman, he had learned, had every right to act with arrogance. She had changed the course of history in her short life. Who knew what was yet to come with her constant interaction in the lives of the most powerful beings in the galaxy. More importantly, and more shockingly, the woman seemed genuinely benevolent. But in this picture, there was no haughtiness. Just pure wonder at her own ability to master the elements of matter. 

It was then that Vegeta had decided to try and live outside of his binary state of survival. He sure as hell wasn't ready to admit that the Earthlings were superior to Saiyans, but perhaps something about their constant interference and interdependence on one another was important. The people around him had some weird influence over how he used his time. Without a doubt, if Kakarot had grown up on Vegeta-sei, he would have been dead by now. That moronic, carefree attitude was simply incompatible with survival and gaining power. But here, on this soft, lush world it had somehow been a benefit. 

Why not run his own experiment with the woman? He reasoned that if he let her in a bit more, the questions would be more annoying, the requests would interfere with his training, and undoubtedly, she would be in his personal space way too much. But, wouldn't that be worth a potential gain? What if he just gave it a week? 

So, he began to linger a bit more at breakfast so she could ask more questions, he left the gravity chamber door unlocked so she had more regular access to the maintenance, he made it a point to wander into her laboratory more and open himself to additional scrutiny, he accepted invitations to dinner, he ignored the strange substances she had been adding to his food, and he let her touch him. 

He allowed her scent to linger on his tongue.

He allowed his energy to mingle with hers. 

He allowed her timid requests to be ever closer to his body.

He allowed her to come to him, to injure him, to take whatever it was she seemed to desperately want.

And that's how he had let himself fall into this moment. 

Somewhere along the way, he had lost track of his own experiment. Of immediate concern though, he must have lost time, because the last thing he recalled was watching Bulma turn away from him in the garden, a deep sense of self-loathing in her eyes. He was surprised how much seeing that expression on her had stabbed at his gut. 

No, Vegeta never considered himself shy, but this immediate situation was sure as hell surprising. 

Bulma kneeled in front of him, stripped completely bare, a light blue bruise forming on her side, her hands cupping full, shivering breasts, a blush quickly appearing on her cheeks, and absolutely dripping wet between her legs. He quickly became aware that he also had no idea where he was. The forest around him was unfamiliar, as was the vast open space behind him. A quick energy scan revealed a landscape void of anything but plants and small wildlife, but more importantly, the woman in front of him was sending off the most complicated energy signature he'd ever felt from her. Like her heartbeat, her energy—as weak as it was—was pulsing, as if trying to pull itself in half while simultaneously struggling not to … not to … 

_… melt? What the hell? Can that even happen to a person's energy?_

He didn't need to glance down to his hand to feel her wetness soaking into his glove, but he looked anyway and swallowed a breath coated with her scent. As he turned his hand over, watching the wetness glisten in the moonlight behind him, the full brunt of her redolent pheromones hit the roof of his mouth and flooded his senses with the unmistakable desire to rut. He was further confused by the woman's expression, an unstable mix of horror, relief, and lust.

Still, he had to admit that he was in the same state. Inside him, his own carnality was overflowing. Unlike the night in the gravity chamber, when she finally came to him, a vessel of want and nerves and heat, she was now saturated with need and determination. Whatever had happened during his lost time had utterly transformed her. There was no hint of hidden motives in her scent, in the state of her body, and even in her eyes. She was embarrassed by whatever had happened, but she certainly hadn't objected to any of it.

In the blink of an eye, Vegeta had run through this analysis while registering the state of his own body. Before he could move or speak again, Bulma gasped and boldly reached forward, pressing her palms to his cheeks. He could feel his own blood on her hands and the slightest sting from his flesh where he must have some type of wound. And then, he put the pieces together. If he was bleeding in front of her, he must have invited it. 

And her unequivocal desire to have him again was the only reason he would have let it happen.

“Vegeta!” Bulma gasped and looked directly into his eyes, her warm body a few inches from his. “Are you back? Are you … you?”

Vegeta put his hands, slowly and carefully, on Bulma's hips to keep her from moving any closer. Something inside his head was still sending heavy waves of rage down his spine to crash against his lust and he didn't trust himself or the situation completely just yet. As a precaution, he tamped back his energy and put a mental lock on his muscles. Around him, he finally noticed he air settle down as a few greenish-yellow sparks fizzled away.

“Oh Kami, I was so worried.” Bulma brashly moved one palm up to Vegeta's forehead in a rather human move to assess his temperature. She must have quickly realized how pointless the action was as soon as she registered his blood on her palm. “Okay … okay. Vegeta, you're bleeding and I'm injured. We just … just need to get home and I'll fix both of us right up. Are you well enough to fly again? Let me just … get my things and we'll ...”

“Let's stay a while,” Vegeta interrupted Bulma's flustered planning and looked straight into her eyes.

She immediately stopped talking. He could see shivers of uncertainty and desire flutter across her skin, down her neck and along her arms. He could feel how her body glowed again with radiant heat. 

Whatever mystery had unfolded for him to bring her to this spot would wait. As the vaguely dizzying waves of rage finally subsided within him, a steadiness settled in, and he realized he didn't _want_ to ignore his lust for her any longer. Looking at her now, her hair a complete mess, sweat tangled and stuck to the side of her cheek, her breath erratic, her soft body so fucking ready for him, right now, in this second, he accepted the need inside of him for what it was. 

He wanted her. 

Ascension be damned. He wanted to taste her, to split her open, to merge his spirit with hers again, to fill her over and over with his essence, to give his body to her completely. 

“Let me have you. Again. Right now.” And as he spoke, he felt his energy slip through his own mental weights. He flushed with a different kind of warmth and let it cover his body in a thin, pale white glow before it spread from his hands, across her hips and naked flesh. Only then did he drop his eyes and watch how his own life force wrapped around every inch of her body, how her nipples puckered, her muscles shivered and softened to its presence, and how the concern in her eyes melted away into cerulean pools of an unmistakable _yes_.

He closed his eyes, turned his head toward the palm she still held on one of his cheeks and ran his tongue across the streak of blood on her skin. He savored the taste of her soft flesh against his metallic blood quickly then moved his lips down to her wrist, and kissed where her pulse was the strongest. He lingered just until he heard her gasp softly, then moved his lips back up across her blood smeared palm again, kissing his way slowly across her hand. 

Under his hands at her hips, he felt her body soften in his grip. He slid his still wet gloved hand around the front of her pelvic bone and immediately dipped his fingers back between the folds of her pussy, slipping two fingers up against her entrance with a slight pressure. With that, Bulma dropped both her hands from his face to his shoulders as her hips immediately shuddered and pressed down against his fingers. As another wave of heat flushed from her cheeks to her core, Bulma also dropped her forehead to one of Vegeta's shoulders and let out a stuttered moan.

His thumb moved up to her clit and pressed just below the little nub, rocking back and forth as Bulma tensed her thighs, squirming her hips against his fingers. 

“First, you're going to lay down and spread those delicious thighs for me,” Vegeta spoke quietly, with a low, gravely voice, his lips now brushing over the edge of her ear as she continued her lurid dance on his fingertips. “Then I'm going to spread your legs even wider. And as you know,” Vegeta dropped his volume to a voiceless whisper, “ … if _I_ hold you down, you won't be able to close those legs.” 

Bulma moaned audibly at this and twisted her head so that her mouth was in contact with the base of Vegeta's neck. She opened her mouth and pressed her teeth against his skin, breathing heavily as he continued.

“But that's what your body wants right now, isn't it? A deep, inescapable rutting.” Vegeta easily pressed two wet, gloved fingers into Bulma's pussy and started thrusting them with shallow, infuriatingly slow strokes. “And I won't let go until I've filled you up.”

With that, Bulma bit hard on Vegeta's neck, moaning sweetly as her other hand dug her nails into his shoulder yet again. Vegeta pressed his thumb in one last circle against her clit then pulled his hands away from her completely. As he did, he pulled back his energy as well and watched the soft glow from her skin fade only to be replaced with the setting moonlight. 

“Lay back.”

Bulma squeezed Vegeta's shoulder one last time before sitting back between her heels, one hand placed slightly behind her hip on the grassy ground, her other tentatively rested on top of her thigh. She looked back up at Vegeta and he saw how the shyness in her eyes dissolved as she focused on him. 

_How the fuck do I deserve her?_

Bulma leaned back, her hair spilling out on the ground behind her, tangling slightly in the mixed blades of grass and small herbs that scattered the area. As soon as her shoulders touched down, she pulled her feet around, straightening her legs. She moved the hand that had been in the grass to her stomach, and for a brief moment, to Vegeta, Bulma looked like an ancient goddess of spring. In the last hour of moonlight, her hair was a meandering stream through the grasses, her skin the last fleeting snows of winter, and her eyes the first clear day in a garden. Through his eyes and in this light, she was positively otherworldly. 

Vegeta pulled his gloves off, tossed them to the side, then pulled the top of his training suit off over his head with one hand. He paused, just to take her in again. Her eyes seemed dewy with readiness, her breathing was surprisingly steady. 

Everything about this moment was picture perfect opposite of what he had always thought it would be. Instead of his private chambers, in a palace, in a land surrounded by howling winds, salt, and politics, with a woman who would undoubtedly bear the strongest of his lineage who had been carefully chosen by someone else … he found himself engulfed by wet earth, pine, and moonlight on a backwater planet, in the middle of nowhere, alone with a frail earthling who chose _him_. 

As if on cue, Bulma slipped both her hands underneath her thighs as she lifted her feet and knees. She swallowed a breath then blushed and spread open her legs, pulling her knees back to the sides of her chest. 

Vegeta groaned and immediately leaned down between her legs, pressing his mouth aggressively against her pussy. With a hot breath, he ran his tongue from the bottom to the top of her lips, only slightly dipping the tip between her flushed, wet skin. He pressed his hands at the base of her thighs and folded her legs back even further, so that her knees practically rested on her shoulders. As his mouth continued to taste between her legs, his fingers dug slightly into her flesh, widening her thighs even more. 

Utterly trapped under his mouth and hands, Bulma moaned loudly and arched her back up. With the pressure from his hands, she could no longer rock her hips toward him and this gave her body a certain freedom to relax into every sensation. Having been on the edge of orgasm for the better part of the last twenty minutes, his tongue was about to make quick work of her first. 

“Oh Kami! Yes!” 

Vegeta slipped his tongue deeper between her folds and lapped at her entrance, coating his face with her juices before moving up to her clit. His lips wrapped around the small nub before his tongue flicked against her sensitive flesh without a break. Under his mouth, Bulma bucked and cried out, her entire body shaking in a powerful orgasm. The sensations flooded from her clit, through her hips, then spread like wildfire through her limbs, circling her nipples and flashing over her brain. She flung her arms out behind her head and thrashed under Vegeta's mouth, crying out his name several times while her body jerked through the initial wave of pleasure.

“I could drink you for days,” Vegeta muttered against Bulma's skin and slid a last, long lick in between her lips as a few new droplets of her lust beaded along her folds. Bulma tossed one arm over her eyes, her body still shivering in the aftershocks and panted heavily. Vegeta quickly pulled his hands off of Bulma's legs and shoved his pants off his hips. Repositioning his body closer to hers, he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and pressed the tip between her wet folds, nudging at the entrance.

Vegeta leaned over her body and moved Bulma's arm away from her face with his free hand. When she caught her breath and looked up at him with half-focused eyes, he braced his hand on the ground beside her head and suddenly kissed her, hard. As his chest pinned her down, he rocked his mouth into hers and pressed his cock into her body below. Bulma moaned into his mouth, pushing her hips up to meet his and kissed back, drinking in his breath greedily. As soon as he had filled her up to the hilt, he moved his right hand back onto her thigh, but positioned it at the back of her knee.

With a hot moan under his breath, Vegeta broke off the kiss and moved his left hand to Bulma's other leg, again just behind her knee. Carefully, but firmly, he spread her legs apart, just as he had promised, and pinned her legs to the ground with her knees flared out beside her ribs. Once again, Bulma was perfectly trapped and utterly exposed in his grip and the sensation relaxed her muscles while causing her pussy to clench desperately around his cock in the first reignition of a new orgasm. 

Watching her eyes carefully, Vegeta began rocking his hips with languid, full-length strokes, filling her completely then just almost pulling out. Her wetness spilled across his thighs and down her ass with this methodical fuck. He continued for a few moments as he felt her body begin to shudder around him in anticipation. A warm column of energy built up in Vegeta's back, starting at the base of his spine until it reached his shoulders, then traveled down the length of his arms.

As soon as his energy enveloped her skin again, Bulma gasped and reached out to hold her own ankles as if to encourage him to give her more. In response, Vegeta's hips sped up and the two were completely enveloped in a thin layer of soft, white energy which lapped at their exposed skin. As their fervor increased, Bulma dropped her head back to the ground, arching her back and neck as much as she could under his grasp, panting heavily through an open mouth. 

Vegeta gritted his teeth, not sure how much longer he could hold back when he sensed a cool, almost velvety ripple of energy pass through his for just a moment. He closed his eyes and groaned.

_Fuck .. it's only our second rut!_

As if on cue, Bulma's hands left her ankles and pressed on top of Vegeta's hands at the back of her knees. As she squeezed the backs of his hands, he looked at her again.

“Yes, yes, please!” Bulma was practically begging him, her skin flushed in anticipation. Her nerves overflowed and her body cascaded through a second orgasm around his cock, gripping him in waves.

Vegeta dropped down again and kissed Bulma deeply as he flooded her body with his seed. Inside her, he slowed his thrusts as his cock pulsed several times, filling her almost uncomfortably. When he pulled back from the kiss, he also rocked his hips slightly, and their combined juices overflowed and coated his thighs and her ass. 

Vegeta lifted his hands from her legs, releasing her body, but placed his hands on the ground next to her ribs, hovering over her for a moment. The two stayed like that, his cock still partially filling her, his seed dripping down her skin, both panting hard and covered with grass and sweat. Behind them, the moon had begun to fade in the first soft orange threads of dawn and the sky had shifted from dark blue to dusty silver.

Bulma groaned as she unfolded her legs slowly and in response, Vegeta leaned over to one side, separating the two of them. He collapsed on the cold grass beside her and dropped his arms above his head, letting his body come down from the high. Bulma turned toward him and casually rested one hand across his torso and almost immediately passed out with a deep, exhausted sigh.

Vegeta kept still for a while, listening to Bulma's breathing and heart rate return to normal as the forest woke behind them. He kept his eyes on the brightening sky, watching the slow shift from orange to peach and finally to broad streaks of soft yellow. As morning finally broke to a quiet blue, he closed his eyes and silently reprimanded himself.

** 

Bulma awoke in her bed, under her covers. She rolled over toward her nightstand and grabbed her alarm clock, pulling it closer. 

Almost noon. Well, that explained why it was so bright in here. She sat up and glanced around the room, trying to connect the dots. Her clothes had been tossed carelessly on the end of her bed, with the exception of her shoes which had been dropped on the floor. Her private patio door was open and the curtains were rustling with a sunny afternoon breeze. Outside, she could hear a few service bots tending the landscaping and the familiar hum of the gravity chamber running.

_I guess I shouldn't be surprised but … really?_

Bulma swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up for a stretch, only to immediately collapse to the floor onto her injured ribs. With a groan and a blush, she realized that her legs were still in recovery from last night and a large bruise had formed over her ribs. Grimacing, she crawled back onto her bed and flopped back against her pillows. She pressed her fingers against her side for a brief medical inspection and was happy to conclude that they weren't cracked, but she had taken a hell of a wallop when Vegeta tossed her into that tree. Rest and a few painkillers would be enough to fix her up.

“Well, breakfast in bed it is then.” Bulma chuckled to herself and picked up a small tablet she kept by her bed. After a few moments, she punched in an order for a few house bots to prep a meal and bring it to her. She set the tablet on the bed next to her, reached into her nightstand and pulled out a soft, cotton nightshirt to put on. She could shower later, after her muscles had finished waking up.

She picked up her tablet again and accessed her lab reports. Waiting on her coffee, she began by reviewing her reports over the past week then examined the formulation process of the drug Vegeta had taken last night. Mentally, she berated herself again for rushing into the trial away from her safety systems, but the memory of those reflective red eyes captured her attention and in response, her thighs pressed themselves together almost involuntarily. 

A knock at her bedroom door heralded the arrival of her breakfast and a trio of bots swooped in and set up a tray with coffee, toast with jam and butter, and a small dish of chilled summer fruit topped with yogurt. As they left, Bulma took a long, delicious sip of the black brew with a sigh and began her report.

_–_

_Trial 7: Which stimulation affects Saiyans most? In pursuit of understanding the mechanisms behind Saiyan physiology, adaptation, and advancement (known by the Saiyan race as “ascension”), it was necessary to examine their genetic components which enable the unique transformation into the radically different “oozaru” form. The scale by which Saiyan's change their physiology for this transformation appears, by any logical standard, to be almost beyond the laws of physics. Where does their extra mass come from? How do internal systems adapt so rapidly to the change in size? By what mechanism do these internal systems counteract the force of gravity that would otherwise make these massive forms completely unwieldy?_

_At the present moment, there are no available Saiyans who still possess their tail through which to collect answers to these questions. By all anecdotal accounts, this prehensile limb holds the key to their physical transformation when given specific stimulants, including natural (ideal) or artificial Blutz waves received by the subject for a short period of time. In light of these imperfect conditions and with a rudimentary understanding of Saiyan metabolism from previous trials, an enteral compound was designed in order to trick an amputated Saiyan body into behaving as if the tail were still attached. Working hypothesis suggested that the Saiyan transformation process, either to oozaru or to an ascended state, would logically have some relationship, even if the physical results were visibly different._

_Let the record show that the initial trial of this formulation was enacted with extreme haste and without appropriate monitoring or safety protocols in place. Although subject's consent was obtained for the trial, further testing must happen under fully controlled situations to prevent danger to the subject and researcher._

_Upon ingestion of the pill, subject showed no immediate reaction. However, the compound seemed to kick in upon subject's viewing of the full moon and created a hypnotic-like state that altered his bodily functions. Racing heart rate, erratic breathing, and unprovoked growling quickly followed after the subject collapsed. Following the first stage of digestion, the subject seemed to lose his stream of conscious thought yet continued to function with full autonomy over his body and exhibited numerous physical changes, most notably by the appearance of nictitating membranes which appeared solid red and a tapetum lucidum._

_The compound seemed to work much too quickly, which may have been caused by inappropriate ratios of ADH suppressant syrup and Sample B. It should be noted that the formulation included less than 5% of filler to help bind the components and less than 2% dissolution compounds. By any human, modern standard, a drug with 93% potency would be considered potentially lethal. However, as recorded by previous trials, Saiyan metabolism is an incredibly efficient mechanism and should not be underestimated. The risk seemed minimal, in theory._

_Without question, Saiyans are irrevocably influenced by stimulation created by moonlight. Recorded levels of last night's moonlight reached .29 lux at the Capsule Compound and the illumination was undoubtedly higher when subject moved himself and the researcher to a secondary location of unknown specificity, but that qualified as remote with minimal or zero levels of light pollution. During the height of the drug's interaction with the subject's system, energy levels were constantly visible and subject seemed to be actively seeking means by which to output the excess energy. Subject released two explosive blasts at nothing in particular and reverted to—what could only be described as—a primitive mindset._

_While this researcher is uncertain by what mechanism the subject managed to recover his conscious stream of thought before the end of the evening, a mix of injury, interaction with blood, and possibly some level of heightened libido successfully drew his attention away from wanton destruction. But this is complete conjecture and highly subjective analysis. The pertinent question now is, how exactly do Saiyans go about controlling their power?_

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, there's a canon name for the partial transformation Vegeta experienced: "Wrath State". Not that he would be likely to have a name for it, since it really only happens in highly specific instances, like a super powerful, Saiyan without a tail going berserk or when some arrogant scientist has crammed a Saiyan full of a completely untested drug. Geez Bulma. One prompt to go, and I won't lie ... seeing this story end is a little sad, but it's been a blast to write. Thank you to everyone who has read, who also wrote amazing stories for TPTH smutfest 2019, who drew fantastic artwork, who left kudos and who commented! You're all awesome.


	9. Trial 8: How do Saiyans control their power? (Sore and Satisfied)

By early afternoon, Bulma had completed her report, read through the remote data gathering units, and set up a routine for some of her lab bots to synthesize a new batch of Sample B at a variety of lux levels. She had also managed to successfully walk from her bed into her bathroom without smacking her face on the floor for a second time.

Her legs were sore, but in a way that reminded her that it had been a bit too long since she properly stretched out with her regular routine of cardio and weight lifting. She really needed to schedule in reminders for her for upcoming week to hit her workout room during the day. A bit of morning calisthenics before she slipped into the shower, and a second round when she came out after her skin was freshly plumped by the steam, had her ready to take on the day without any further sign of wobbly legs.

Bulma dropped her towel on the dressing bench outside her closet and walked in. Adjusting for the time of day, a few lights under the cabinets came on as she passed the doorway, and the skylight in the center of the ceiling automatically adjusted its digital screen to allow filtered daylight to fill the room. A tablet in the center of her closet turned on with a little chime displaying the day's weather forecast and upcoming appointments.

> Warm, partially cloudy, 10% chance of precipitation.
> 
> Shareholder's meeting in 3 days.
> 
> Mother's Monthly Garden Gala in 5 days.
> 
> Lunch with Chi-Chi in one week.

“Schedule,” she paused and waited for the tablet to chirp. “Add. Workout. Nine to Ten am. Repeat one month. Weekdays only.” The tablet blinked a large check on the screen and updated her calendar with an affirmative beep.

Just past her summer dresses, Bulma pulled out a slightly cropped blouse with cap sleeves and a matching pair of breezy harem-style shorts, both with light, peach pastel striping. Great for the weather and comfortable for the lab. On her way out of the closet, wrapping her hair into a loose, low bun, she glanced at the pile of clothing on the end of her bed. Other than being fairly grungy from getting yanked around and tossed on the ground, they weren't in bad shape. But the sudden memory of willingly stripping down in front of that man gave her pause.

_Just admit it, Briefs. You weren't only trying to bring him back to his senses._

She scoffed and absently pressed her hand against her bruised side as her core fluttered with anticipation. She walked to her full length mirror next to the door of her bedroom and turned to the side. Her hand lifted the side of the cropped blouse up until she could see her light green bra and examined herself. Sure enough, she had a fairly massive bluish-green bruise along the side of her ribs. Thankfully, she only felt a lingering soreness in the area.

_Well, maybe no swimsuits for the next week while I masquerade as a beaten up Namekian._

Unbidden, another memory interrupted her assessment. This time, his voice. Absent his typical gruffness or even impatience, he had used a tone so unfamiliar and rare, Bulma wasn't even sure she had ever heard it before. From anyone. Ever.

“ _Let's stay a while.”_

Bulma closed her eyes and leaned against the mirror, her thighs rubbing together as she sighed through her memory. He hadn't been desperate, or demanding, or angry, or confused.

Vegeta had been _certain_.

She tilted her head a bit to look at the side of her reflection in the mirror and brought one hand up to her cheek, fingertips grazing along her lips. She gently bit her own pinkie, then let her fingers glide down her neck, between her collarbones and rest between her breasts. Absently, she pressed her fingers against her chest, as if looking for her heartbeat.

She swallowed a breath and looked at her reflection. Her cheeks were flushed softly, her eyes dilated a bit, and her own lips parted to let a warm breath escape.

She couldn't delude herself that everything that had happened was just some part of an over-eager experiment. Vegeta had been blunt, but patient with her. He desired her. Almost madly. But he had waited. Every single time. Until _she_ acted. And when she did, he had opened the door to let her crash through straight into his reach.

_What ARE you doing, Briefs?_

And she realized that possibly, for the first time in her life, Bulma Briefs—the genius heiress of planet Earth, the first person to ever solve both Moser's worm and the GNRS conjecture in just two consecutive days, the mastermind behind the dragon radar which had undoubtedly saved humanity more than once, the developer of a self-contained gravity deviation simulator that managed to keep space time from warping and aging its users—was _uncertain._

Bulma swallowed and looked at herself in the mirror.

What _was_ all of this between them? It sure as hell wasn't science anymore, at least not totally. What did she want from him? Escape? Distraction? Commitment?

She snorted an ugly laugh and stood up straight, brushing down her shirt and shorts with her palms.

_Commitment._

Besides, that was the last thing she needed right now. Only a fool would leap from one long term relationship to another. And in the midst of a future crisis? No. She certainly didn't need commitment or anything resembling it, and she was certain that Vegeta didn't want anything of the sort either.

It made more sense to call this a … a stress-relieving fling. Harmless fun.

She bit her lip.

_Intense … sweaty fun._

_With a death dealer._

_From another planet._

And before her mind could wander too far along the memory of his thick, powerful arms pinning her shaking legs to the ground, she snapped at the door handle and marched herself to her lab.

 

**

 

Since depositing the woman in her chambers last night, Vegeta had immediately cloistered himself in the gravity chamber. The mindless repetition of his fighting katas cycled with one hundred sets of push ups and sit ups hadn't stopped since he set the gravity to increase by two atmospheres every three minutes. Exhausted, intentionally starved, and deeply frustrated after the events of last night, he had pushed himself for almost eight hours without a break.

“Resetting to 318g.” The automated voice of the console droned its latest increase and the pressure in the room thickened.

Although he knew in the back of his mind that he was nowhere near his maximum tolerance, his muscles screamed at him to stop after hours and hours of punishment. He let out a frantic roar as he held his body at the apex of a push up, his arms shaking under the weight of his body, the room pressing against him with relentless stress. Rivulets of sweat poured over his face, arms, and back, soaking the shirt and waistband of his blue training suit.

As he stood to begin his next round of katas, his right leg gave out from beneath him and he crashed both knees into the ground. In a fit of frustration, he tore his shirt off. He paused as the fabric landed with a wet slap on the ground and glanced, panting heavily, at his hands. His normally pristine white gloves were still covered with bits of dirt and the faintest scent of ozone lingering under a thick layer of sweat. He hadn't used any energy attacks since he had returned to the training room and the realization triggered the briefest memory of his body sending out an enormous blast at … at something … at nothing without his control, ~~just~~ hours before.

Instinctively, his hands balled up into fists as the visceral memory of the trapped Oozaru crept back up his spine again.

“Resetting to 320g.”

Vegeta's body folded him at his hips, left hand catching his upper body from collapsing onto the ground as the room crushed his weakened form again.

“ _Yes, yes, please!”_

Vegeta slammed his right fist into the floor, warping the carbon plating as her voice trilled across his memory.

“Computer,” he grunted, “Halt program and reset.”

Instantly, console across the room chirped and powered down. In response, Vegeta's body lifted itself up off the ground, naturally floating as the gravity released its hold on his form. For a moment, he ignored his own weightlessness and dragged one hand through his hair.

As the magnetic turbine came to a halt and the room returned to silence, Vegeta finally let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, glanced at the floor below him, and set his feet back on the ground.

_Just ask her, you idiot. At least when she says no, you can deal with it and stop all these interruptions once and for all._

Vegeta grabbed his soaked training shirt and stumbled off to her lab. Sleep and food could wait just a while longer.

 

**

 

“Vegeta, this … really,” she grunted, half her body draped behind a mechanical console, her upper half completely hidden to him, while her lower half, very prominently displayed with her creamy legs drawing his eyes up along the backs of her thighs to the little valley of peach stripes converging together along the curves of her ass, “Really, isn't … the best … oh come ON!”

Bulma growled from behind the console, metal banging on metal as she attempted to smash something into position. Vegeta closed his mouth and consciously stopped himself from taking in her scent. When had he even opened his mouth? Was he really that far into this? Shaking the thought from his head, he stepped up to the console, the side of his leg brushing up against hers and leaned forward as much as possible to try and see what the woman was doing. Her hips and body continued shaking as she wrestled with a wrench while dangling upside down.

Vegeta rolled his eyes, surprising himself, and lifted off the ground, levitating and rotating his body. As he did, he noticed how her top had fallen forward just enough to reveal the garishly dark green and blue bruising on her ribs. He hesitated in the air.

_Shit._

He quickly berated himself as the only possible cause for her injury, then continued his inversion until he was also upside down and next to Bulma behind the console.

Bulma shrieked at the sight of him and dropped her wrench in a manic attempt to punch Vegeta in the face. He caught her hand easily and grabbed the wrench in his other hand before it fell on the floor.

“Which one?”

Bulma retracted her hand from his sweaty glove and huffed.

“I didn't ask for your help, Vegeta.”

“Your growling indicated otherwise. Which one?”

While she shimmied her body against the console, he floated without a centimeter of movement, waiting. She glared at him but was quickly distracted by the fact that he was shirtless, sweaty, and so damn close she could have licked his chest. Her brain skipped back to their night in the gravity room and then wandered right down a path of pure smut.

_What if we fucked upside-down? Oh Kami, is that even possible? I mean, he could put his … FOCUS Briefs!_

Vegeta held steady, trying desperately to ignore the wave of heat Bulma's body suddenly radiated toward him.

“Here. This torque lock. I should have just used a regular heavy hex, but this juncture needs an upgrade. I already turned off the bypass for the plasma conduit. I was hoping that as the unit cooled, the torque lock would warp back out of shape, but it really, really wants to do its job properly.”

Vegeta hovered in closer to her, placed the wrench, and nudged the lock with ease, instantly loosening it, but bending the wrench in the process.

“Er.. Sorry about that,” he muttered and handed her the warped tool. “But .. that should do it.”

She glanced at her poor wrench, then at his face and noticed it was slightly flushed. He couldn't seriously be embarrassed about breaking a tool, could he? She smiled and leaned over, pulling the lock off with her hand. With a shimmy, she righted herself on the other side of the console, feet back on the floor. She stole a quick glance at his upside-down form before turning around and heading over to her mechanics work station.

“Thanks. Really.” She placed the lock and ruined tool on the table, keeping her gaze low.

Vegeta set down on the floor and took a few steps in her direction.

“Look,” she began with a sigh, “I'm … horrified about last night.” She clenched the bent wrench and looked down at her work station.

He stopped in his tracks.

_So, I really was a monster after all. Guess that answers the next question._

“I was reckless, truly.” She spun around and looked at the bare chested man, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “And I … was arrogant. And before you say anything, yes. I know I'm always arrogant, but I also know that I have the right to be. Because, well … I'm right. Almost _all_ of the time. At least about my experiments and projects.”

Bulma crossed her arms gently across her stomach and looked up at the ceiling of her lab. Vegeta tilted his head slightly and listened.

“I guess I just made too many assumptions about the hardiness of Saiyan physiology and was too excited to test out my theory. I do truly want to help you achieve your goal.” She met his gaze again, this time with furrowed brows. “But, I need to remind myself that it's actually … _your_ goal. Not mine.”

He stepped into her space, slipped his hands under her arms, forcing her hands to lean back against the table while he brazenly slid one hand up against her shirt, lifting it to reveal the massive bruising on her side.

“And this?” His thumb grazed along the edge of her rib as he watched her face attentively.

The sudden nearness made Bulma's temperature spike between her legs. She gripped the edge of the table as his eyes dropped from hers and scrutinized the side of her body.

“My fault,” Bulma swallowed and shifted her hips as a wave of goosebumps radiated from his touch along her back. “I'm fine anyway.”

Vegeta decided to challenge her assumption and stepped closer to Bulma, trapping her against the table, his legs nudged against hers. Gently, he pressed two fingertips against her ribs and watched as she swallowed a breath. He watched as she bit down on a moan and unabashedly watched the heat in her body radiate from his touch then pool in her core. She _was_ injured, but interestingly, his touch also caused her body to react with pleasure.

“Last night,” Bulma dropped her voice to just above a whisper, “you already more than made up for that. But, you're more than welcome to make up for it again, right now, and later tonight. And possibly again tomorrow.” With a faint smile, Bulma crossed her arms, grabbed the bottom edge of her blouse, and lifted it up off her chest, quickly dropping it on the table behind her. She put one hand on top of Vegeta's at her side, and the other at his waist.

Something deep inside Vegeta's core, somewhere between his gut and his groin, flooded with pride. This woman had rearranged her entire world of study around him, had shared her flesh with him, and had even been injured by him in pursuit of his goal, yet here she was, asking for more. If he had traveled to a thousand different worlds, and then a thousand more, he wouldn't have found another woman like her. Madly driven, brilliant beyond measure, tough as nails, recklessly passionate, and utterly obsessed _with him_.

Even so, it seemed foolish to hope that she might say yes. He knew he wasn't wrong last night when he felt her cool energy shimmy across his, but he was surprised that her body so quickly welcomed his in preparation for his cub. She didn't seem to project the mindset of wanting one, but he knew there was truth in energy and truth in the flesh. Regardless, custom required her verbal consent to advance their joining.

He watched her fingertips slide along the edge of his pants, teasing his sweat covered abs as she tilted toward him. The light green fabric covering her breasts almost made the bruise on her side look welcome. But there was no mistaking her body language this time. There was no subterfuge, no game, no hesitancy. Just a single-minded desire to rut with him. If it weren't for her coloring, Vegeta would have had trouble distinguishing her from a Saiyan female in this moment. Internally, his energy roared along his spine, demanding action and an answer.

“Bulma.” He brought his gaze back to her face and waited for her to look at him, tamping the beast inside him down for just a while longer. Her fingers continued to move along his flesh, but she finally met him with those shockingly blue eyes. “Are you sure about selecting me? There's … still a chance I won't make it through that battle. I can't guarantee that, yet. And until I can, I … _can't_ guarantee my presence. I know Earthlings value that. Are you sure that you want _this_?”

The lust that swirled in her gaze mixed with doubt and he braced himself for the rejection.

_Some Saiyan Prince you are. Babbling off about failure and death while courting a woman to bear your heir._

She found it odd that he felt the need to bring up the arrival of the androids, which was still almost two years away. Did he seriously think she would reject this fling just because he hadn't ascended yet? That seemed stuffy, even for him, especially since he had seemed so … _so_ willing both times. It seemed more likely to her that he was awkwardly admitting that he would still prioritize his training over messing around with her. But if this past week was the new normal, she could absolutely live with that.

“I want it. Now.”

Without hesitation, she let her tongue trace a line from the base of his neck to the bottom of his jawbone before muttering in his ear. “Right now, I know what I want.”

Vegeta straightened his spine, leaning away just as her lips pressed against his jaw and scrutinized her.

And so she said it, admitting the truth to herself. And she let herself say it with the same certainty she had heard from him last night. Even though she had stumbled herself into this fling, she was finally able to admit that she enjoyed it. That she craved it. But she could see that he doubted her, so she reassured him as well.

“We both have work to do, but I _can_ focus on the future, with or without you. It just happens to be more interesting … with you.” Bulma met his gaze and allowed herself the honesty, just this once, to blush.

“So give me as much as you're willing to share. I. Want. This.” Bulma slipped her hand past the waistband of his pants, gripped his hardening cock.

When staring death in the face, Vegeta had become familiar with a particular sensation his energy spread across his nerves. A kind of last ditch burn that channeled every speck of energy from every cell in his body. Shocked now by her assent, his cells suddenly burned, his nerves shattered something in the back of his subconsciousness, his vision automatically blinked into a different spectrum, and his core roared for her.

With a swift movement, he picked her up and sat her ass on the lab table behind her. Without breaking contact, he slid his hands around to the underneaths of her thighs, purposely allowing a trail of his energy to fizzle from his fingertips. He pulled her legs up, rotating his hands until his thumbs hooked the back of her knees. Bulma grabbed onto his forearms for balance. He ground his painfully hard cock against her center, ignoring the fabric barriers between them, and dropped one hand behind her to brace himself against the table.

Bulma licked her lips and immediately pressed back against his hips. She brought both her hands up around the back of his neck and pulled Vegeta in for a forceful kiss as she rocked her body toward him. She wrapped both legs around his side and locked his hips against hers. With freed hands, Vegeta reached down to her hips and roughly yanked her shorts down toward the table. Without breaking her kiss, Bulma yanked her body up against his, hopping off the surface of the table. Quickly taking the cue, Vegeta pulled her shorts off her ass, yanking the mint green lace panties with them.

“Let go,” he chuffed. He pulled away from her mouth enough to speak, but stayed close enough that his lips still brushed against hers. Bulma nodded quickly and unwrapped her legs from his body long enough for him to yank the clothing off her legs. In tandem, she took the opportunity to yank her bra off her shoulders, quickly unlatching the hooks behind her back.

He wanted to stare at her. He wanted to revel in this naked goddess splayed out on her lab table, just for him, panting for his seed. But he couldn't resist and dove back in for a deep kiss, pressing her body down against the counter, grinding his hips against her exposed core.

_Fuck. Already soaked, again? I will never get tired of this._

Hands on either side of her ribs, he left his pants to her attention as he rocked his body along hers in anticipation. His hard length left a trail of her wetness along his pants until she managed to shove the waistband off his hips. His cock bounced against her pussy with a lewd smack and in response, she wrapped her legs back around him, urging him on. She moaned into his mouth, begged him with her hips, and finally dragged her nails along his spine until her fingers gripped his hair.

“Fill me.” She panted softly, gazing at him with dewy eyes as her fingers released his hair and grazed the back of his neck with her nails.

A lab table leg cracked. A momentary burst of ozone split through the air. Her hands flew back, desperate to hold on. She knocked over piles of papers. A tray of tools clattered onto the floor. He watched every quiver of her lips, caught every moan from her throat, studied each sharp breath, and drank it all with a greed that surprised him. This time, he was rough. Unrelenting. Almost ... _almost_ ... unhinged.

Beneath him, she transformed into the tides, ebbing and flowing beneath his ministrations, pulling him as he pushed into her. Her blue hair spilled behind her head, her pale skin flushed with torrents of hot blood, and as he approached his limit, he saw his own energy creep beneath her flesh. It still wasn't enough.

He dropped lower, resting on his elbow with one arm while the other slipped between their bodies, his rough fingers searching for her clit. He pulled his cock halfway from her quivering pussy, found the little nub and rubbed it with the underside of his thumb. At the same time, he forced a small stream of his ki against the hardened flesh, enough to buzz the heightened nerve endings below the surface. A tidal wave of pleasure arched through her body, rolling her chest against his. As she coated her skin with his sweat, moaning, flailing, riotously panting, he dropped his mouth to her shoulder and dragged his tongue up her neck as he shoved his full length back into her.

The table shoved back as a metal bolt lost the battle to keep the counter stuck to the floor. She screamed, shuddering around him just as he smashed into her hips one, two, and three more times. Then paused, his cock pumping stream after stream deep into her core, taking in the scent of his own blood from her nails on his back, her lust, their sweat, his seed. The melange caused something in his brain to click.

Vegeta blinked his green eyes and studied her face. Her eyes were closed, her forehead covered in a sheen of sweat, and her cheeks were flushed brightly as she panted in time with him.

“Again,” he muttered and started to rock his hips, causing his seed to spill out past her lips as he stirred her insides.

 

**

 

By the end of the night, they had moved into her bedroom, managed to order and eat dinner, and leave a pair of hand-shaped dents on one of her walls from the third, or fourth, or fifth enthusiastic round. She wasn't sure which. Bulma lay on her side with and exhausted Saiyan beside her. Vegeta had passed out about an hour ago and was breathing deeply. She looked at his face and realized that this was the first time she could recall him not wearing some type of scowl or stressed expression. The edge of her lip rose in satisfaction.

She sat up, stretching her arms above her head and thought about slipping away for an evening shower, but an oddly clumsy hand grappled for her leg. Startled, she glanced back at Vegeta.

“That would have felt nicer if it had been my tail. Sorry.” A familiar, slightly stressed expression looked back at her, but at least he had half a smile.

“What were you trying to do?”

“Wrap my tail around your waist, of course.” He closed his eyes and lopped the offending hand over his forehead. “I'm not done with you yet.”

Bulma blushed, then laughed, then smacked his chest.

“You are quite done for tonight mister. I'm exhausted and you clearly are too. Did you even sleep last night?”

Vegeta grunted and looked her over.

“I needed to … work some things off. Not the least of which were the remainders of that serum you made that was still rolling around in my brain.”

“Sorry again about that.” Bulma glanced at her damaged wall. It almost seemed comical the way he had ripped through the plaster while bracing his hands over her head. If he hadn't been pounding her quite so hard, the bits of paint raining past her face might have caused her to burst out laughing. And then she remembered the massive energy blasts he sent off at random the night before. And the poor wrench in her lab just hours ago. In each case, she realized he had lost some control over his strength.

“Vegeta, you're … really, really strong.” Bulma noted still looking at the wall, her expression serious.

“So you keep telling me, woman.” Vegeta smirked a bit and turned his head to follow her gaze. “Oh. Get a bot to fix it.”

“No, I mean, how do you keep all that power contained? It doesn't seem to be the same for the humans I know with ki ability. Why haven't you broken _more_ things? Does it feel like you're … I don't know … holding your breath all the time when you do every day acts, like, drinking water. Is it hard for you to _not_ break the glass?”

He turned and looked back at her face. She was lost in a haze of research again. He watched her eyebrows raise as if a slew of calculations were flying behind her eyes, a multitude of possibilities weaving in her brain. As brilliant as she was, he knew then that she really couldn't understand _knowing_ through the flesh. Not like he did. It had confused him since the day he first met the Earthlings. So much body language in their speech, yet so much subterfuge in their words. How could he explain that the essence of being alive—of channeling ki—was no different from controlled breathing for him than inventing was to her?

“Let me guess. That clown broke a ton of things in front of you, hasn't he?” Vegeta brought both his arms behind his head on the pillow.

She snickered at the memory of a much younger Goku.

“Yes, he did.”

He closed his eyes. His energy was depleted, his body full of nutrients, and his lust satisfied. He needed rest.

“I'll try and explain it tomorrow. Can your report wait until then?”

“Sure.” Bulma smiled and slipped out of the bed and made her way to the bathroom.

_Wait. Wait wait wait! Wait just a Kami-damned minute! He knows about the reports??_

From across the room, she spun around and stared back at the man on her bed. His mouth had fallen slightly open, and that expression on his face, no stress, no scowling, told her he had already passed out again. Bulma's heart skipped a beat at the thought that Vegeta likely knew she had been experimenting on him for much, much longer than she had let on in the garden.

_But … how?_

She swallowed a breath and quickly steeped into the bathroom.

 

**

 

She woke with his lips on her ear and one of his hands sliding across her bare stomach, slowly creeping toward her center.

“Mmm.. no. I really, really need a shower.” Bulma mumbled into the pillow as she rubbed her thighs together. Admittedly, the feel of his chest against her back was not the worst way to start the day.

“Have a bath. With me.” Vegeta's voice rumbled against her skin.

As soon as she let out the sigh she had been holding, he knew he had won. He nudged her body to the edge of the bed, helping her sit up and then followed her into the bath. She stopped at the doorway and fussed with a panel on the wall, starting up the automatic bathtub.

Vegeta leaned against the doorway and looked around. _Shit, this place is nice_.

The tub began filling quickly, steam billowing from the gushing water as it filled the oversized white basin. Bulma positioned herself at the side of the tub, bent at the waist and reached down to test the water temperature.

Vegeta licked his lips and took the opportunity he had hoped for. In an instant, he positioned himself behind her and slipped one hand between her legs, teasing her inner thighs with his fingers.

Bulma gasped and gripped the edge of the tub for balance, but didn't object. Instead, she looked back over her shoulder with flushed cheeks. He met her eyes with hunger in his own before dipping down behind her. Kneeling on the floor, Vegeta brushed his fingers against her pussy, quickly dipping between the lips to stroke against her entrance and clit.

She arched her back down and pushed her hips back as her body responded to the call with a new flood of wetness. Before she could even beg for more, she felt his face against her pussy, a rough tongue lapping the length of her slit with unrestrained vigor. With one hand focusing on that nub of pleasure, he nipped at her lips and shoved his tongue between the folds, drinking her essence.

It was too much, too fast, and Bulma chirped, shuddering within seconds, her knees bending and smacking against the outside of the tub as she practically sat on his face.

“Ve.. Vegeta .. stop,” she panted.

He pulled back, licking his lips with an amused chuckle. Standing, he wrapped his arms around her waist and deposited both of them into the now filled tub. If she wanted to continue, his cock was more than ready.

She kissed him, deeply, dragging her fingers into the back of his hair and wrapped one leg over his hip, joining them with a moan before he sat them both into the water.

“But just once, then I have to get to work,” she muttered against his lips.

 

**

 

By sunset, Bulma had only written half a lab report and not seen Vegeta since morning. It had been an unproductive day, at best. Her mind kept bouncing between sex, Vegeta's inexplicable knowledge of her experiments, her broken bedroom wall with his unfulfilled promise to explain his control of ki, and a particularly annoying schedule bot she wished she had never designed that reminded of impending shareholder meetings at the downtown office.

“Don't forget! Capsule Corps annual shareholder meeting tomorrow. 5 pm sharp. Financial and experimental reports to be presented!” The nasty little bot repeated itself for the hundredth time as it flew around her lab table, just out of her reach, and finally, _finally_ docked itself to charge for the night.

With a frustrated sigh, she jostled the mouse of her desktop and woke the computer. There wasn't yet enough data to compile for her next study of Vegeta's physiology. Even though she had fully reviewed the chemical levels and energy levels from the mishap evening a few nights ago, she needed to run the numbers against a control. Against him. She privately admitted to herself just how sloppy her rushed experiments had been. To move forward, objectively this time, she needed him to better explain how he managed to regulate his own systems before deciding what next steps the data could illuminate.

Glancing at the clock, she decided to give herself an hour or so on the shareholder's report then head up to the kitchen for dinner. As she clicked open a spreadsheet, she grinned to herself, imaging tonight's dessert.

 

**

 

Bulma tapped her pen on the table, listening to the VP of Engagement drone on about the company's latest plans to integrate subliminal marketing into West City's latest TV craze, Bachlorette Island. She perked an eyebrow and glanced at the time on the tablet in front of her. 8pm. Seriously? The Board was taking their damn time tonight. They hadn't even let Bulma give her presentation yet, even though the entire point of the meeting was supposed to be preparation for a shareholder's vote. Her project and its funding would be approved, regardless. That was the primary perk of having a 65% share in the company. However, her father had set the standard that all projects must still pass with a majority of the individual shareholder's votes. Tonight, it felt like everyone was power tripping a bit and deliberately trying to waste her time. She just wasn't sure why.

Bulma twisted the pen between her fingers and ignored the speaker. Vegeta hadn't come by last night after dinner. But she hadn't heard the gravity chamber running either, so she decided he must have been catching up on sleep. She blushed, remembering how riled up she had been, just thinking of the potential of a visit from him. Hidden by the conference table, she recrossed her legs, tightly.

“We just need you to sign on, Ms. Briefs.”

Bulma snapped to attention and looked at the young man in the ill cut suit standing at the other end of the table. As her mind drifted away from the bedroom and back into the boardroom, she glanced around the room to see every one looking at her with hopeful smiles. She had no clue what they had been discussing. Dismissing her day dream, she cleared her throat and leaned both elbows on the table, bridging the pen between her fingers.

“The project has a majority vote already by outstanding shares?” Bulma asked, digging for information.

“Indeed, Ms. Briefs. Additionally, KBC News has agreed to supply all of the filming equipment as long as we supply the rest of the crew, and you.”

Bulma blinked, begging her mind to fill in the gaps she missed. But her face had other ideas. Her brows furrowed, her lips pinched in their characteristic pre-yelling twist, and her eyes focused right into the measly heart of the man at the other end of the table. The smiles around the table weakened.

“It's … going to be a guaranteed hit, Ms. Briefs,” the VP of Engagement sputtered. “The world's most eligible bachelorette is finally looking for love! Think of what it will do to our next quarter shares!”

Apparently, this meeting wasn't about to end any time soon.

–

_Trial 8: How do Saiyans control their power?_

_Through multiple casual observations, it seems that the ability for Saiyans to control their power must be similar to human breathing in that it is both an autonomic function of their nervous system but one that can be regularly overridden by voluntary, conscious commands. On a day to day basis, Saiyans do not randomly generate energy blasts, appear with energy auras, float, or even break delicate items. These types of actions seem to require concentration. However, it is unknown whether this “normality” takes conscious effort once power levels breach a certain point. Known exceptions include a young Saiyan child who was unaware of his heritage as well as his experience in oozaru form, and recent observations of the primary subject when subjected to the experimental drug, Sample B. More recently, the primary subject uncharacteristically and accidentally broke a lab tool and a wall, but the reasons behind these two instances of apparent loss of control are unknown._

_Both adult Saiyans currently living on Earth have displayed similar abilities to consciously focus and “raise” their power according to their will. While there seems to be a constant upper limit to how much their energy can increase that only changes with on-going development or training, the need for concentration to achieve this state is apparent. However, the oozaru form is counter intuitive to this conclusion. Transformation into the great ape form is guaranteed, given adequate exposure to ideal conditions. Trial 7 had hoped to capitalize on this intuitive transformation by allowing the subject to take control of the autonomic transformation, without physically changing form. However, due to rushed labs and a hasty experiment which lacked rigorous preparation and procedures, any conclusions drawn from Trial 7 must employ skepticism._

_In preparation for Trial 8, subject will be proactively informed of potential tests and be given full oversight to ensure erroneous assumptions regarding his physiology aren't brought into the equation. Procedure details and results to follow._

_Researcher's note: I estimate that the subject will not remain cooperative much longer if I am unable to assist with his advancement to ascension. Forthcoming success is necessary if these trials are to continue._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! The story isn't quite over just yet! However, this is the end of the TPTH prompt inspired chapters. The very, very long delay in posting this chapter is the result of personal work related things and trying to figure out just where to chop this chapter up. As I was writing it, I realized that if I didn't find a comfortable ending, I was going to post a 10k or so behemoth. Don't worry. All of that is still very much on the way. And hopefully the delay won't be nearly as long this time.


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